


Two Sides of a Dagger

by Nuffers



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blood Magic, But mostly sweet, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Possessive Behavior, Slow Burn, Some dark moments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-07-12 05:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7087474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nuffers/pseuds/Nuffers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cole and Effy grew up as childhood best friends. But darkness soon leaves it mark, changing both of them in ways that they never expected. Initially follows the plot of Dragon Age Inquisition but begins to diverge after Haven.</p><p>---------</p><p>"I want something. Something just for me."</p><p>"And what is it that you want?"</p><p>Cole didn't answer. Instead he stepped closer, his entire being vibrating with barely repressed intent. Effy felt her body flush as his crystalline eyes locked on hers with a single-minded focus. Her heart thumped a steady staccato in her chest as he raised his hand to trace the back of his knuckles against her trembling neck. </p><p>And suddenly, she knew.</p><p>"Oh..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Chapter

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at Colemance. Enjoy :)

His fingers tickled Effy mercilessly, and her resulting laughter shimmered over his ears like starlight. It was an honest laugh, one born from joy and delight, and it was all the more beautiful because it came from _her_.

  
He grinned in response, the expression a rarity on his face that only ever emerged when he was with Effy – such was the harsh reality of living in a household where a laugh or a smile would be more likely to earn a whipping than a reward. These small moments of stolen happiness were the only ones he had, but they were all the more sweet for it.

  
“Cole, stop it!” Effy squealed, futilely trying to bat his hands away.

  
“Never!” he proclaimed, doubling his efforts on the tender flesh of her stomach and underarms.

  
“COLE!”

  
She was a feisty girl, his Effy, and he soon found himself on the defensive as she lunged forward and tackled him to the grass. They went tumbling through a clump of bushes in a flurry of hair and clothes and skin. When their momentum finally petered out, she had him pinned, and her face was smiling above his triumphantly.

  
“Okay, okay, you win!” Cole acknowledged breathlessly. He raised his hand to tuck a hanging strand of her tousled brown hair back behind her ear. The air around them grew heavy as his fingers lingered by her face, pure and pristine as porcelain, with a smattering of freckles splashed across her nose and cheeks.

  
“Cole...”

  
A heated gust of air released from her flushed lips to fan across his face. His body flooded with warmth at the sensation. Cole suddenly wanted nothing more than to kiss her, to have his mouth sear so deeply into hers that she would feel him always, forever marked upon her lips. He trembled with the urge, nearly overwhelmed by its intensity.

  
But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Because she… she was a noble. The beautiful firstborn of the Trevelyans. And while she might harbor a certain fondness for him – a sympathy for his miserable life – he knew that they could never truly be together. He was lucky enough to have her in his life at all. Cole had thanked the Maker every day since that fateful afternoon eight years ago. She’d come galloping through his family’s measly farmland on one of her make-pretend adventures, and they’d been best friends ever since.

  
It was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

  
Every moment he spent with her was like a waking dream, her brightness and joy nearly blinding after living so long in darkness. She was a crystal clear spring to a drowning man, a heady succor for a voracious thirst that he could never fully quench. He longed for her constantly, and every moment without her was sheer misery.

  
And yet now, as her green eyes continued to look at him, he pulled away his hand and slammed his eyes shut. It was too dangerous to look at her, to touch her, because he was no longer sure if he had the willpower to stop himself once he did.

  
“Evelyn! Where are you?” someone called from across the gardens belonging to her family’s estate. Cole’s eyes flew open at the noise. He couldn’t see her from his spot amongst the bushes, but he recognized the voice as belonging to Effy’s mother, Lady Jacqueline Trevelyan.

  
He made to stand up and flee, but Effy firmly pushed him back down and placed a commanding finger over his lips in a signal to be quiet. Lady Jacqueline did not approve of them spending time together, and would no doubt be furious if she caught them in so compromising of a position.

  
“Evelyn!” her mother called again.

  
Effy paused, her plump lips pursing like they always did when she was deep in thought. After a moment, her eyes sparkled, and she reached into the base of a nearby bush and yanked out a giant cluster of yellow weeds.

  
“Over here Mom!” Effy called, making a token effort to smooth her dress before standing up and walking over towards her mother. “I was just picking dandelions to make Brandon some tea. Sister Abigail says they work wonders for an upset stomach.”

  
“Oh Evelyn,” her mother sighed with exasperation. “You’re always so thoughtful with your baby brother. But look at you, you’re covered in dirt! You better not have been gallivanting about with that urchin boy again.”

  
“You know his name. It’s _Cole_. And Cole is not an urchin!” Effy defended hotly. Cole could almost picture the stubborn set of her jaw, her feet planted in the ground like a tree about to weather a storm. “And I don’t see how it’s any of your business anyway!”

  
“I’m your mother, of course it’s my business! I let you have your fun when you were younger, but you’re not a child anymore. Soon you’ll have a husband and a family of your own.”

  
“Right. Marriage. Like that will ever happen. Tell me Mother, do you even know me at all? Or is your head crammed so far up the Chantry’s ass that you actually believe all the shit that they feed you about a womans ‘rightful duty’?”

  
“Evelyn!” Lady Jacqueline gasped. “Stop using such filthy language! Maker knows you’ve never been devout enough to join the Chantry, but you can at least carry the Trevelyan name with _some_ semblance of dignity. Like it or not, you will marry! Frankly, I don’t see why you’re being so willful about it. You’re a young and beautiful woman with a good family name. You should be grateful for your station in life!”

  
“Grateful?!” Effy spluttered. “Grateful to be a broodmare for some noble idiot who doesn’t even know me? I won’t do it Mother. And you can’t make me!”

  
“We’ll just see about that!” Lady Jacqueline snapped. “I see now that I have erred in being so lenient with you, but I will not indulge these childish notions any longer! Do you even know why your Father and I decided to come live in the Orlesian countryside? Why we left Ostwick, our homeland, to come live out here in the middle of nowhere?”

  
“Maybe you wanted a bit of fresh air?” Effy snarked.

  
“Oh you petulant girl! We came here because of _you_! We wanted you to have an actual childhood away from all the political scheming in Ostwick. But our self-imposed exile has strained diplomatic relations far more than we first expected – relations that could nevertheless be rekindled by an offer of _marriage_. We have put off a number of advantageous proposals because we knew that you weren’t ready for them, but you’re now of an age that we can no longer dismiss them as we did before.”

  
“So that’s it then? I am now to pay the price for your mistakes?”

  
“I’ve done what I could to give you a happy and simple life, but I also have to ensure the survival of the family,” Lady Jacqueline explained, her voice softer and more sympathetic. “Your Father and I planned to tell you today at dinner, but I see no reason to wait. We’re heading back to Ostwick. As the heir to a great family, your brother needs to be raised in the lands that he will one day own. And you, stubborn girl, will need to meet with a number of potential suitors until you find one who might make you happy. You can take your time, within reason, but one thing is certain – our time in Orlais is over.”

  
Silence lingered after Lady Jacqueline’s pronouncement.

  
Cole was glad to be laying down, because he knew that he would not have been able to stay standing in the wake of the icy dread that pummeled into his stomach.

  
Effy was leaving. Effy was going to be married. Effy was _leaving_.

  
Lady Trevelyan might as well have said the world was ending.

  
“I can’t,” Effy whispered. The grief in her voice was another lash against Cole’s shattering heart. “Why do you hate me so much? Why are you doing this to me? You’ve ruined everything!”

  
Effy didn’t understand her mother’s decision. But Cole did. It was what he’d been warning himself about for five years. And now that it was finally happening, Cole had no idea what to do. He would do anything to take the hurt away and give Effy the happiness that she deserved. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even be _seen_ with her.

  
“There is no need to get upset! I’m sure there are plenty of lovely gentlemen… Evelyn, your hands!”

  
“I can’t! You don’t understand, I can’t leave! I can’t marry someone I don’t love! I CAN’T!”

  
“EVELYN!” her mom cried out in terror.

  
Cole suddenly noticed an icy pain in his chest, and realized that the wintry fingers digging into his chest were not manifestations of his grief, but actual tendrils of ice that were slowly creeping over his prone form. He bolted up from his hiding spot, panicked and confused, and his eyes instinctively sought out Effy.

  
Except she wasn’t Effy anymore.

  
Her eyes gleamed with otherworldly power, two chips of green amidst a sea of white and blue. She floated above the ground, her body encircled by a thick sphere of swirling icy shards that radiated outward to the surrounding landscape. Lady Jacqueline stood beside her, literally petrified, as her legs were encased by solid ice that was slowly creeping its way further up her spine.

  
Cole knew what he had to do. He didn’t even pause to consider the danger as he sprinted forward towards Effy.

  
_His_ Effy.

  
Wicked little slivers of ice pricked against his skin as he crossed through the icy dome surrounding her, but he paid them no mind, because Effy was in his arms a moment later.

  
“Shhhh,” he whispered into her ear as the maelstrom spun around them. “Shhhh Effy, I’m here. I’m right here.”

  
She gave a choked gasp and buried herself into his frosted arms. “I don’t want to leave!”

  
Cole’s arms clutched her trembling form even tighter against his own. He needed to be strong. He needed to be strong for her.

  
“Effy, you’ll always be my best friend. No matter what happens, no matter where we go, we will always be together. Because we will never forget about each other in _here_ ,” he murmured, tapping her heart.

  
“Promise?”

  
“I promise.”

  
She nodded, the frozen strands of her hair rubbing against his frostbitten skin. “I trust you, Cole.”

  
“Then look at me.”

  
She raised her head, her emerald eyes so tormented that it tore at something deep inside of him. This fragile little thing, she was his salvation, his light within the darkness. She had saved him, and now, he would save her.

  
Warmth pulsed within him, wild and hot. He gently cupped her cheek and lowered his mouth to claim her frozen lips.

  
Heat swept through him, swept through her, and together, they burned.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Cole shook his head, dislodging a rat that had been gnawing at his fleshy earlobe. The action gave him vertigo, and he would have vomited had there been anything in his stomach but air and dust. His dreams had been feverish of late, but if his mind was finally drifting to the last sanctuary he held against the damp darkness of the White Spire dungeons, then it could only mean one thing.

  
This was the end.

  
Pitiful sobs shuddered and wracked his emaciated frame as the memories seeped into his mind. That was the last time he had ever seen Effy Trevelyan. Her parents had packed up her things and shipped her off to the Ostwick Circle that very night. Cole knew this because he had snuck into the Trevelyan manor the next morning and been caught by Lady Jacqueline, who had told him the information between screaming at him and threatening to call the guards. And while he had sworn to stay away, he had kept visiting the house in secret every night afterwards in a desperate hope that Effy might return. But when the rest of her family left a fortnight later, he finally realized that she was never coming back.

  
He had been crushed, of course. He had thought that Effy’s departure would make things to go back to their typical miserable selves.

  
But he had been wrong.

  
Things had gotten much, much worse.

  
Over the next year, strange things had kept happening to him. Things would catch fire when he was angry, and horrible creatures would come to him in his sleep to offer him pleasure and riches and power in exchange for his soul. And although Cole had no education to speak of, he had eventually figured out that the strange things meant that he was a mage, just like Effy. But he had also realized that if the Templars found him they would not send him to the same circle as Effy – she was in Ostwick, and he lived in Orlais. He would go to the White Spire, assuming he wasn’t made Tranquil on the spot.

  
And so he had hid himself, and hid what was happening to him, so that Bunny and Mom would not be left alone with his abusive father. But his secrecy hadn’t done any good. One day his father had gotten so violently drunk that his mother, whose warrior instincts had long-since been smothered by countless years of abuse, had finally tried to stand up to him. In his drunken rage, he had stabbed her to death with her own Avaari blade. Cole had set the neighbor’s barn on fire in despair before hiding in the cupboard with his sister Bunny.

  
Cole’s sobs grew more hacking and desperate as he remembered that day.

  
The Bad Day.

  
_Hush Bunny, don’t make a sound. Don’t make a sound!_

  
When his father had finally found them in the cupboard, Cole desperately clasping his hand over the mouth of his sister’s corpse, the hateful man had laughed. He had _laughed_.

  
_Hatred swells, thick and hot, wrestling for the knife. Cold steel, bare against my palm. Should’ve killed him sooner. Frantic cries as metal pierces flesh. Again and again, the red stains my skin with the color of vengeance. But as he passes, I see the relief on his face. He wanted it. Howling as the Templars close in._

  
“ _Now I’m all alone. Now I want it too_.”

  
Cole registered a foreign presence in his cell but was too tired to keep his eyes open. He was too tired to even keep breathing. All he wanted was for it to be over. All he wanted was to forget.

  
_Let the screams be silenced. Let there be nothing at all. I failed her. I promised to be there for her. But I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t even help myself._

  
“ _I want to help_.”

 

_There is something here. Something other than myself. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I just wanted to be normal. I just wanted to be good enough for her. But I’m a monster. A murderer. I want it to be over!_

  
“ _Take my hand._ ”

  
With one final lurch, he did. And then all he knew was whiteness.

  
………..

  
…….

  
...

 

  
“Forget.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Cole stared at her as the memories ripped through his skull like shredded paper, tiny little pieces fluttering together into a jumbled mass of knowledge and knowing. His eyes widened in shock, opening so wide that the glacial winds of Haven pricked tears into the corners.

  
“Cole?” she whispered. Her green eyes, so bright in Cole’s memories, were even more vibrant in real life as they bored fiercely into his own. She saw him. She saw him, and she _remembered_.

  
So did he.

  
_A crescent moon amidst a midnight sky, a wounded soul fighting against the darkness. How is he here? Am I dreaming? Pulse quickens when he looks at me. Is it really him?_ Effy thought, her thoughts blazing into Cole's mind like a sunbeam, brighter on account of her Mark.

  
“Hello… Effy.”

  
“COLE!”

  
She raced forward and threw her arms around his shoulders with wild abandon. She wanted this, he knew. Cole could feel her hurt, her joy, her absolute _need_ to be wrapped in his arms. So he hugged her back. He had never hugged anyone – had never touched anyone except to kill them – but he could read and respond to what she wanted from the hug and adjusted himself accordingly until it was perfectly _right_. The feeling of her skin on his, her chest breathing against his own… it was nigh indescribable. He wasn’t even sure if this was really happening, and yet it ground him to reality in a way that made everything seem so _real_.

  
“Herald?” queried an almost-but-not-quite Templar, his hand resting warily on his half-drawn broadsword. His Templar intuition was screaming that something wasn’t right about this strange pale man in the wide-brimmed hat who had his arms wrapped around Effy, or as he knew her, The Herald.

  
“Cullen, it’s alright. This is Cole,” Effy explained, like that explained everything. And to her it did. But Cullen’s mind was still swimming with confusion about Cole’s purpose in being there, and Cole did not want Cullen to worry.

  
“Do not worry. I’m here to help you. To warn you,” Cole stated, slowly disentangling himself from a reluctant Effy. “The army you face is made of Templars singing the song of Red. They have been corrupted by the Elder One. He has come for the Mark. He comes for you, Effy. He’s very angry that you’ve taken his mages.”

  
Effy planted her feet stubbornly on the ground, the familiar gesture making his mouth twitch. It was odd to have such memories of a person he had never met. It was even odder to feel his heart squeeze so tightly in his chest.

  
“So the Big Baddie is finally here to finish what he started, huh?” she sniffed. “Figures. Well he can take his gate-crashing ass and march it back to whatever shithole he crawled out of. Because he can’t have the mark, and he certainly can’t have me!”

  
“I tried asking him to leave, but he was very much against the idea,” Cole admitted, remembering the howl of rage as he disappeared before the darkspawn magister’s eyes. “But I won’t let him have you. I’m here to help.”

  
“How are you even here? It’s been six years! How come you never tried to contact me? I didn’t even know if you were still alive!”

  
“Perhaps we can all catch up another time,” Leliana interposed, her eyes gleaming with calculated interest as she appraised Cole. He remembered the Nightingale from when they had worked together with Wynne, Rhys and Evangeline, the day the White Spire had imploded into all-out war. He remembered her, and so she could also remember him.

  
“Yes, the better question is how we plan to fight against an army of corrupted Templars,” Cassandra intoned briskly. “Commander, how are our forces?”

  
“They are ready to fight as soon as I give the word. But Haven is no fortress. It is not built to withstand a siege. Our only hope is to buy enough time to evacuate everyone back to the Chantry. It’s the only defensible building in town.”

  
“The Chantry won’t be able to hold against a force of that size. What if we use the trebuchets to start an avalanche?” Effy strategized.

  
“It could work. The snow might bury enough of the army to give our men a fighting chance,” Cullen agreed.

  
“Then it’s settled,” Effy decided. “Cassandra, you’ll come with me, along with Solas and Varric. We’ll be the ones to launch the trebuchets. Cullen, you’re in charge of the defenses. Leliana, that leaves you to supervise the evacuation of the townspeople, and Josephine to maintain order within the Chantry.”

  
“It will be done,” Leliana vowed, with a nod from Cullen and a gracious dip of the head from Josephine.

  
“Hey Sunshine, what the hell is going on?” hollered a dwarf as he sprinted up to the group, followed by a mishmash band of warriors, rogues, and mages.

  
“There’s a war going on, didn’t you all get the memo?” Effy called back. “Sera, Blackwall and Dorian, go with Leliana and evacuate everyone back to the Chantry. No arguments Dorian, I don’t care if your robes get dirty! And Bull, I need you and the Chargers to defend the Chantry from any Templars that slip through the front lines. Vivienne, you stay inside with Josephine to keep the nobles and peasants calm. Don’t hesitate to freeze anyone if they get too unruly. Cassandra, Varric and Solas, you’re with me. Now let’s go kick some Templar ass!”

  
And just like that, everyone got moving. Effy was a tiny woman, not much taller than five feet, but her voice was laced with a confident authority that made everyone obey her without question, save for a begrudging sigh from Dorian.

  
“Cole, I need you to go to the Chantry as well. You’ll be safer there.” Effy instructed in a low voice. Her three chosen companions all stood behind her, their thoughts anxious to get going with the opposing army advancing closer with every second.

  
“Of course,” he lied. He didn’t like lying and he did it very rarely. But he could see the ironclad determination in Effy’s thoughts and knew that she would waste precious time arguing with him if he said no. And wasting time would cause more hurts.

  
“Thank you. I’ll see you when this is all over,” she whispered, kissing him boldly on the cheek.

  
And with that, she started running towards the trebuchets.

  
Cole stood stupefied.

  
He slowly raised his hand to where her lips had pressed against his cheek. His skin was hotter where her lips had touched, and his heart pulsed with a strange accompanying warmth. Cole had witnessed mages and Templars rubbing their lips together in secluded alcoves within the White Spire, but had never understood why they did it. He still didn’t entirely understand. But Effy had hugged him. She had kissed him. She had wanted to. And something about that made him feel… good. Happy.

  
Effy was getting further and further ahead, so he quickly made himself invisible and ran to catch up. The urge to help her was too strong to be denied – and he had absolutely no intention of denying it. He wanted to help. Not just to heal the hurt, but because it was _her_. Already she was the most important person he knew. Even more important than Rhys and Evangeline.

  
And he would protect her.

  
He caught up right as the first wave of Templars began to smash through the wooden fences surrounding Haven. While Cassandra cranked the wheel of the trebuchet, Effy slammed her staff into the ground to create a devastating wave of frost that froze over the wooden fence in an icy wall twice as tall and at least three times as thick as the original.

  
“Let’s see them bust through that!” she grinned.

  
With a final turn of the crank, the trebuchet launched a giant stone into one of the Templar’s siege machines. It hit one of the main beams and sent the whole thing crumbling down on top of the Templars below.

  
“Nice shot!” praised one of the soldiers. “We can take it from here, the other trebuchet is signaling for aid!”

  
“You heard the man, let’s go!” Effy yelled, rallying her followers before continuing towards the second trebuchet.

  
Cole marveled at her determination. He knew her, but then again, he didn’t. Whispers of remembrance that were too strong to be forgotten still lingered in his head, but they were not _his_ memories. And even still, they were memories of a young girl on the cusp of adulthood. Effy Trevelyan was a woman now, a fact made clear by the steel behind her actions, tempered and strengthened by the trials of time.

  
But there was no time to ponder such things. The group reached the second trebuchet and found it overrun by a band of Red Templars that had already broken through the outer fence. Upon seeing Effy and her companions, the Templars turned away from hacking at the trebuchet and charged forward to attack.

  
To hurt Effy.

  
Not on Cole’s watch.

  
Cole weaved unseen between the Red Templars like the ghost he used to think he was, his glinting daggers stabbing each of them in turn. His blades could not pierce the chunks of red lyrium growing through their chests, so he killed them all in the quickest way he knew how – a single thrust straight through the eye and into the brain. But the Templars were too crazed to notice that their brethren were dropping dead one by one, and continued towards Effy and her group in a mindless rage.

  
“Why are some of them falling down?” Cassandra wondered.

  
“Don’t know, don’t care! Let’s just kill the bastards!” Effy shouted. With another twirl of her staff she set a line of ice glyphs between her group and the incoming Templars. All four were triggered at the same instant and blew apart the unlucky Templars that had trodden over them. Varric meanwhile let loose a storm of bolts that flew into the mass and plunged into them indiscriminately. Solas cast a barrier as the first Templars reached the group, and then proceeded to electrify any that tried to flank the group from the sides. Cassandra stood in a defensive stance beside Effy, her sword and shield raised to protect the Herald from any harm. And although her intent was the most obvious, Cole knew that it was not just Cassandra who protected Effy. Their thoughts revealed that every one of them considered it their primary duty to protect – The Herald - Sunshine - Evelyn – at all costs. Their entire formation was geared around defending the vulnerable little mage who stood in the center, freezing Templars left and right.

  
It was clear that Effy and her companions were familiar with fighting next to each other and were well-trained for combat, but they were also facing off against thirty or so Red Templars who were so crazed on red lyrium that they more resembled darkspawn than men. The attackers growled and clawed and threw themselves at the defenders with no concern for tactics or safety. Solas was having a hard time maintaining the barriers and also preventing the frenzied mass of Templars from encircling the group, and it was forcing Cassandra to split her attention between defending Effy and Varric.

  
Cole saw that he was needed, and so with a final plunge of his dagger into another Templar – _so angry SO angry hurts so much Need to kill NEED TO KILL – dead_ – he sprinted towards the group and took up position in the rear beside Solas. He made the decision to allow the group to see him so that they wouldn’t get in each other’s way.

  
“Cole! What are you doing here?! I told you to go to the Chantry!” Effy screamed over the sound of battle.

  
“Yes, but I was needed here,” Cole responded, disappearing and reappearing behind the flanking Templars quicker than the eye could see. He mourned for the loss of so many lives to the madness that was red lyrium, but his blades were merciless as they stabbed and slashed.

  
“Go back! It’s not safe!” she pleaded, whipping her staff to freeze over a Templar that had gotten too close in her distraction.

  
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s safe for you."

  
“COLE!”

  
“Hey Sunshine! More killy, less talky!” Varric interjected, firing off a powerful shot that blasted through the chest of a Red Templar and skewered another one right behind him.

  
Effy huffed and refocused on the battle. It was chaotic and bloody, but Cole slid seamlessly in between the gaps of their group like he was meant to be there, and before they knew it, they had cut down the entirety of the Red Templar forces.

  
“Damn we’re good!” appraised Varric, whistling at the pile of bodies strewn around the trebuchet.

  
“Less talky, more launchy!” stated Effy, wheeling the trebuchet as quickly as her arms could manage.

  
“Yes, we must hurry!” Solas urged. “The main force is almost upon us!”

  
“No…shit...” Effy panted. “Almost… there… got it!”

  
The second trebuchet fired straight into the mountains ahead with a spring of clunky mechanics. There was an ominous crack, followed by a loud rumbling, as an entire shelf of snow collapsed off the mountain and went tumbling down to the valley below. The Elder One’s army was blanketed in white as the majority of their forces were buried beneath the avalanche of snow.

  
“We did it!” Effy crowed in victory. She high-fived an equally exuberant Varric, and nodded to the more reserved Solas.

  
“Look, Cullen is taking the field!” announced Cassandra, pointing towards the outer gates of Haven. Sure enough, Commander Cullen was riding out at the forefront of a sizeable fighting force, his sword held aloft and gleaming in the air. The thunder of hooves as they charged into the beleaguered Templar army was enough to rumble the ground itself.

  
“I can hardly believe it,” mused Solas. “To have clenched a victory from the jaws of defeat against a far superior fighting force… the spirits will tell stories of this battle in the Fade for many years to come.”

  
“We haven’t won yet,” Cassandra cautioned.

  
“Oh stuff it!” laughed Effy, perching herself upon one of the upper beams of the trebuchet to watch the battle. “Look at them! The Templars are falling apart!”

  
Cole surveyed the battle and saw that it was true. With the majority of their army and siege equipment buried underneath the snow, and a powerful force of battle-hungry warriors galloping towards them, most of the Templars were quickly being overrun by the charging steeds that Effy had secured from Master Dennet no more than a fortnight ago.

  
“Herald, please come down! You are too exposed up there!” requested Cassandra.

  
“Safety shmafety, I’m perfectly fine –“

  
**KER RAW! KERRRRRR RRAW!**

  
Everyone threw their hands over their ears as a hair-splitting shriek exploded through the air.

  
“HERALD! GET DOWN - !”

  
It was too late. Down from the clouds soared a beast so large that it blanketed the entire Valley in shadow. It opened its grisly mouth and spat out a sizzling red fireball straight towards Effy and the trebuchet. Cole watched in slow motion as Effy jumped at the same moment the crackling sphere collided with the trebuchet and exploded into smithereens.

  
Effy impacted the ground hard, and only a hastily cast barrier from Solas prevented her from being pierced by the storm of flying shrapnel.

  
“Effy!” Cole exclaimed, appearing by her side in an instant. “Effy, are you alright?”

  
“Ouuuuuuch,” she slurred.

  
Cole’s hands fluttered helplessly above her body as he wondered what he could do to help ease the pain.

  
“DRAAAAGON!” went up a call from around Haven. The dragon flew overhead and began spewing red lyrium fire across the town and battlefield, burning away at Cullen’s forces who were sitting ducks out in the open.

  
“RETREAT! RETREAT!” Cullen screamed, loud enough to be heard all the way over where the group was standing.

  
“We must get the Herald back to the Chantry!” Cassandra declared, practically shoving Cole out of the way to pull The Herald up to her feet.

  
“What the hell is that thing?” exclaimed Varric as he helped Cassandra to lift up Sunshine.

  
“The dragon belongs to the Elder One,” Cole informed them, grimacing as his mind connected to the seething vortex of madness that was the dragon’s thoughts. “He has come for the mark. He will burn Haven to the ground until he finds it.”

  
“No… stop!” protested Effy as a frustrated Cassandra made to hoist her into her arms. “I said STOP! If the dragon has come for me, then I would endanger everyone else by fleeing to the Chantry!”

  
“It does not matter, we must get you to safety! Besides, how do we know he is telling the truth?” Cassandra demanded, looking sharply at Cole.

  
“If Cole says the dragon is here for me, then I believe him,” Effy stated firmly. “And we don’t have time to argue. You all need to head back to the Chantry so that you can inform Cullen of the new plan.”

  
“Which is what? You sacrificing yourself? I will not allow it!” Cassandra snarled.

  
“One life is not worth the lives of thousands. I will stay behind and distract the dragon while you and Cullen lead the townspeople to safety. Lead them into the mountains, or the woods, I don’t care! Just find a way to get them out of here! Once you are free of the valley, send up a signal.”

  
“Assuming we can accomplish all of this, what will you do then?”

  
“There’s still another trebuchet,” Effy reminded them. “Once you give the signal I’ll bring down the mountain on top of Haven. Let’s see how that dragon likes being buried in fifty feet of snow.”

  
Cassandra stared at The Herald. Her friend. Cole could feel her resignation, her despair, but more than anything, her utter admiration. The Herald was often rude, and brash, and in most cases, far too flippant. But here she was, willing to sacrifice herself to save the lives of those who followed her. Cassandra might have doubted before, but now there was no question – this woman had truly been chosen by the Maker.

  
“You will not survive this,” Cassandra attempted, even though she knew The Herald would not be dissuaded.

  
“You know me," Effy grinned sadly. "I’m always surviving things I shouldn’t. But enough of this – you need to leave. All of you. Right now.”

  
“But Sunshine!” Varric protested.

  
“No, I refuse to let you die for me! Now get going!”

  
“Evelyn, we cannot possibly - !” tried Solas.

  
“I said GO!” Effy screamed, raising her marked hand to release a pulse of sickly green energy. The dragon, which had been harrying the tail end of Cullen’s forces, immediately swung around and made a beeline straight towards Effy.

  
“LEAVE! NOW!”

  
“Maker be with you,” Cassandra whispered. And with one final glance, the group of three turned around and started sprinting back to the Chantry.

  
Cole could feel their guilt, thick and roiling like a pot of burnt soup. Every one of them wanted to stand and fight beside her. But for her plan to work, for her sacrifice to mean anything, they had to get back to the Chantry and execute the evacuation.

  
For once Cole actually understood their feelings, because he felt them infinitely more acutely himself. Effy was going to die. Effy was going to die, and by doing so, would save the lives of thousands and prevent countless hurts. He should be happy with her choice. But he wasn’t. It was tearing him apart. He was not supposed to feel this strongly. It was wrong. It was too much.

  
“Cole, please leave,” Effy attempted, furiously wiping away the stray tears that fell from her eyes. “I don’t want the last thing I see to be your corpse. Please.”

  
She was sad. So very, very sad. The dragon was above them now, and Cole could see in Effy’s mind that she thought it was already too late to save him. That they were going to die together.

  
But he… he couldn’t let her die.

  
Cole, at that moment, made a choice of his own. He grabbed Effy’s arm and willingly delved into the darkness that lurked beyond the edges of his mind. The darkness that he had done everything in his power to avoid after the dark and bloody events of the White Spire.

  
_A shadow,_ he thought _. Nothing but a shadow._

  
He struggled against the furious tide, composed of everything of which his very nature denied. It was a chaos in which his identity tugged and pulled, too flexible to be real, too precarious to provide a foothold. It was madness made reality in the most painful of ways.

  
_Just a shadow. Nothing but a shadow._

  
The dragon landed right in front of them, it’s maddened eyes swiveling left and right in search of the prey that had been there not a moment earlier.

  
_Dark, darker, have to sink deeper, have to protect her._

  
“What’s happening?” Effy whispered.

  
The dragon heard her, and belched out a vicious stream of red lyrium in their direction. But they were gone in an instant as he skimmed along the edges of the Fade.

  
_Nothing and no one. Just a shadow. Just a direction. Over there._

  
The two exited the Fade at the base of the unbroken trebuchet. To Effy, the travel was instantaneous, but to him, it was still happening.

  
_Stretched, torn, half in one world, half in the other. Too structured, too absolute. Easier to go back._

  
“Cole?” Effy whispered, staring at the enraged dragon roaring and spewing fire where they had just been standing. It was loud in its anger and it did not hear her. But the entity trembling beside her _did_.

  
_Cole. Yes, my name is Cole._

  
Like a rubber band snapping back into place, Cole returned. Everything was sharper and crueler, straight lines and ticking time in a world of absolutes. He pushed the darkness to the back of his mind, whispering, plotting, planning its next escape even as he locked the door.

  
“What’s going on? Cole, where are you?”

  
_Effy is visible,_ Cole realized with a surge of panic. She was visible, but he was not. Because even though Cole was Cole again, the Fade buzzed beneath his skin, a lingering cloak marking him as other, and therefore, apart. But the darkness was gone, laughing behind the walls he had so abruptly trapped it within. It could not hide her anymore.

  
The dragon spotted Effy and let out an echoing screech. With a few deft flaps of its wings it hopped overhead to land in the path back to Haven, blocking any possible means of an escape.

  
But it was the least of their worries. Because at that moment, a skeletal form emerged from amongst the flames, its presence so dark and twisted that the very air crackled with latent malice. A sneer cut through the leathery skin covering half of its face, while the other half was a mass of knobs and scars amidst a growth of red lyrium.

  
It was him.

  


  
The Elder One.

  


  
“Enough!” The magister spat, subduing the dragon with a dismissive wave of his clawed hands. “Pretender. You toy with forces beyond your ken, no more.”

  
He advanced on Effy, who raised her chin in open defiance. “I am no pretender! And whatever sort of creature you are, I am not afraid of you!”

  
Cole knew that she was. But then again, she wasn’t. The fear flapped and fluttered like a swarm of birds, too much to ignore but not nearly enough to consume. Her bravery and dedication were too big, too bright – they took up all the branches and the birds had nowhere left to perch.

  
“Words mortals often hurl at the darkness,” the creature rumbled. “Once they were mine. But they are always lies. Know me. Know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One – the will that is Corypheus! You will _kneel_!”

  
“Kneel? No thanks. Ugly darkspawn assholes aren’t exactly my type,” Effy spat.

  
The perversion paused, perhaps not expecting her unusual brand of defiance.

  
_The trebuchet!_ Effy suddenly thought, so loud that the words reverberated within Cole’s head _. I need to launch the trebuchet!_

  
Cole was used to playing the role of the observer – to watch and to wait and to see what happens next. But he was here to help. And since the magister had not yet sensed him, Cole could help in a very critical way. He could execute her plan for the trebuchet while the Elder One was distracted.

  
“You will resist,” Corypheus noted. “You will always resist. It matters not. I am here for the anchor. The process of removing it begins now!”

  
The darkspawn magister raised his hand, connecting it with the mark on Effy’s palm with a sizzling crackle of dark energy. Cole used the noise to sprint towards the trebuchet, his heart thundering in his chest as he heard Effy’s painful cries split through the air.

  
“It is your fault, ‘Herald.’ You interrupted a ritual years in the planning. But instead of dying, you stole its purpose,” Corypheus scowled. The monster tugged on the magic within Effy’s palm, wrenching another unwilling cry from her throat. The continuous sizzles and crackles of the foul magic drowned out the creaks and groans of the trebuchet as Cole rapidly begun to rotate it back towards Haven.

  
“I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as ‘touched,’ what you flail at rifts, I crafted with the power of the Wolf to assault the very heavens. And you used the anchor to undo my work! The _gall_!”

  
Corypheus thrust Effy away, sending her tumbling to the ground in a painful heap by the mouth of the dragon. She staggered up to her knees, confusion and anger swirling within her head.

  
“ _You_ made the mark? No wonder. It’s been a pain in my ass ever since I got it!”

  
“ _You_ are not worthy of such a creation.”

  
Corypheus strode forward and yanked Effy up by her arm, holding her dangling above the ground like a helpless kitten. Cole was trembling, whether from fear or exertion, he did not know. The trebuchet was aimed, and now he was cranking it for launch, well aware of the clamor he was making. The sound of metal gears clacking against each other was more than loud enough to draw the attention of the dragon, who growled a low note of warning to its master. But Corypheus paid it no heed, too consumed with his attempts to reclaim the anchor and too arrogant in his powers to take notice.

  
“I once breached the Fade in the name of another. To serve the Old Gods of the Empire _in person_. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own. To champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed. For I have seen the throne of the Gods, _and it was empty!”_

  
The final gear clicked into place right as Corypheus picked up Effy and hurled her straight towards the trebuchet. Cole barely managed to dodge out of the way as Effy slammed against the wooden beams.

  
“The anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling,” Corypheus sneered in contempt.

  
Effy staggered to her feet, desperately grasping onto a nearby sword even though she didn’t have the slightest idea of how to use one. Her mind reeled with confusion as she took note of how the trebuchet was somehow already aimed and loaded.

  
“So be it. I will begin again, find a new way to give this world the nation – and God – it requires.”

  
Corypheus was winding down. Now that he could no longer claim the anchor, it was clear that he intended to kill Effy. The dragon approached by his side, its crazed eyes flashing with barely restrained rage.

  
“And _you_. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die!”

  
The two advanced towards Effy in a rising swell of black intent. But then, everything changed as a single flare cut through the evening sky – a tiny spark of hope amongst the darkness. Effy’s face hardened into a mask of determination, her eyes marking the lever a scant few feet away. And suddenly, Cole could see what she planned to do as clearly as if she’d spoken the words aloud.

  
“You think you’re so special,” Effy sneered. "But really, you’re just prick. A stupid prick whose mother didn’t smack him enough as a child. And if I am going to die… _then I’m taking you with me!”_

  
And with that, she lunged and sliced the sword down upon the lever, launching the trebuchet directly at the mountain overhead. The stone collided against the mountain with an ear-splitting crack, followed by a rumble that shook Cole’s teeth to the bone. Corypheus and the dragon turned to watch as a tidal wave of snow careened down the mountain towards Haven. Effy watched as well, making no attempt to run. She knew that there was no way to outrun an avalanche and had already resigned herself to her fate.

  
Cole, however, had not.

  
He grabbed Effy, who let out a startled cry as his invisible form heaved her over his shoulders. He charged down the slope heedless of anything and everything except getting to one of the many caves he knew were scattered within the nearby rocks. Cole didn’t understand his actions. He knew he had to help. But in that moment, it was something far more. He wanted to protect her. To save her.

  
But he couldn’t make it.

  
Corypheus and the dragon flew off, but Cole did not have wings. And although he ran and stretched the Fade as far as he could without sinking back into darkness, it wasn’t enough. And so with one final dash, Cole leaped into the air, turning himself around to cradle Effy against his chest as they went crashing down into a pile of wooden beams. The snow surged around them, and then they were falling….

  
Falling…

  
...


	2. The Second Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Effy's POV. It'll alternate between her and Cole for every chapter.
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

Effy groaned, comprehending little in the first few moments of wakefulness but discomfort and pain. She was laying amidst a splintered pile of broken logs, most of them thicker around than her thigh. To break a single one of them, much less an entire stack, would’ve taken considerable force.

  
She squirmed, and suddenly noticed the squishy bits beneath her.

  
She was laying on top of something.

  
Effy stood up, rubbing her aching backside, and turned to see what had broken her fall. She let out a startled gasp as she saw the broken and mangled form of her best friend.

  
Cole!

  
She had thought (hoped) that he had fled for safety when he first disappeared – because if not, it meant that he had been whisked away by some foreign magic of Corypheus'. But if he was here, it meant that he had never left. It meant that somehow, within the six year span of their separation, Cole had learned a stealth technique strong enough to fool both her and Corypheus, _and_ a high dragon. It was hard for her to reconcile the memories of her old friend with the skilled rogue she now knew him to be, but then again, six years was a long time. 

  
And Cole's life had never been easy.

  
Regardless of how he had done it, Cole must've been the one who had set the trebuchet and saved the townspeople. He must've also been the one who saved her life and brought her to safety.

  
_Stupid fool_ , she thought fondly.  _He hasn't changed a bit._

  
She placed her fingers beneath his neck to gage his status, but the evaluation quickly turned into an emergency when she realized that there wasn’t a pulse. Cole wasn’t just hurt – his heart had stopped beating!

  
She needed to heal him right now!

  
Effy had very little experience with healing magic, especially on this scale, but she wasn’t dumb enough to think that she could go find help in time. So with nary a second thought for her own injuries, she immediately delved as deep as she could into her mana stores and pooled a bright green ball of healing energy between her two hands. The orb shook and wobbled, but pure willpower allowed it to keep its shape as she ran it up and down the battered form of her friend.

  
His bones twisted and snapped back into place – veins and arteries wagging and weaving back together like lazy snakes. Bruises faded, cuts mended, and inch by inch, Cole’s body slowly put itself back together. Effy dug deeper into her magic with each injury healed, desperately sucking at the edges of a well that had already gone dry.

  
But too late she realized that it wasn’t enough. Cole was unresponsive, and all of her magic was completely spent.

  
The healing orb sputtered out with a final crackle. Her trembling fingers searched his neck, but there was still no pulse to be found.

  
But she couldn’t give up.

  
She clawed at the healing potions around her belt, finding them all shattered but one. She lifted it to Cole’s lips, mumbling a desperate prayer to the Maker as she poured it down his throat. Her fingernails bit into her palms as she waited.

  
Five seconds.

  
Ten seconds.

  
Thirty seconds.

  
One minute.

  
Two minutes.

  
She flung the empty flask onto the ground where it shattered in a shower of broken glass.

  
“You fucking _asshole_! Wake up! Can you hear me? WAKE UP!” Effy cried, furiously shaking Cole by his shoulders. “You can’t leave me again! You promised we'd always be together! Maker damn you, you promised!”

  
Cole’s repaired body shook limply and thumped back to the ground like a ragdoll when she finally released his shoulders.

  
The truth crashed down on her in a vicious wave. 

  
Cole was dead.

  
And there was nothing she could do to save him.

  
Effy collapsed next to him onto the ground, howls of grief screaming from her throat as her mind rebelled against what had happened. It couldn’t be true. They had just been reunited. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t!

  
Her arms trembled as she lifted herself back up, her vision blurry under the weight of tears pouring from her eyes. Everything was tinged red, and it took her a moment to realize that she had collapsed atop the shards of the broken flask.

  
Blood. She was bleeding.

  
She lifted her hands. Her right palm was marred by the sickly green anchor, but her left hand was dripping blood from a thick slice across her palm.

  
Blood.

  
She didn’t have any mana left, but she still had her blood. Her life force.

  
The cave suddenly filled with dark whispers, echoes of demons that had long pursued her in the Fade. _Blood magic_ , they whispered. _Use blood magic!_

  
_I can’t_! she sobbed, years of Circle training etched into her moral code.

  
_He will die if you don’t,_ the whispers insisted. And she knew that they were right.

  
But what would become of her? She would be forever tainted by the darkest of magics. She’d be more susceptible to demons for as long as she lived. It was a perversion. She’d hardly be better than Corypheus.

  
“I’m nothing like you,” Effy murmured in the ghostly cold darkness of the cave. But the words rung hollow. Cole was dead. He’d been dead since before she woke up. To bring him back now would be necromancy in its purest form. Such an act would earn her a swift execution, Herald of Andraste or no.

  
But the truth was, she had already made her choice.

  
Maker help her, she had already made her choice.

  
With a choked sob she clenched her hand, allowing the blood to flow in thick rivulets down her wrist. She felt the wicked gleam of power shining within as the whispers increased to howls. Before she could second guess herself, she succumbed to the pull of the blood, to the chorus of screams, and _yanked_.

  
**POWER**.

  
It flooded into her, every drop of blood more powerful than all her mana twice over. Everything buzzed as it flooded through her in an intoxicating rush. So wrong, but so very very _right_. It wanted to be free. It wanted to consume her. She wanted to be consumed by it. But something within her, something deeper than her mind – deeper even than her heart – needed it to do something else.

  
With a powerful wrench she directed it towards Cole, using every ounce of her focus to funnel it towards its purpose. The magic pulled and fought her for every step, but her resolve was immutable. She would save Cole. Her soul was damned, but she would save Cole if it was the last thing she ever did.

  
She pushed her magic deep into his heart and brought it back to life with a giant lurch.

  
**Tha-thump. Tha-thump. Tha-thump.**

  
Effy guided the flowing blood, forcing it to pass into every nook and cranny of Cole’s body, lingering within his brain to regenerate the tender flesh. His pale skin grew rosy as the last of his injuries mended and his blood continued to flow.

  
But it _still_ wasn’t enough.

  
His body was alive, but she could now sense that Cole was gone. There was a deep darkness where there should have been light. He had already passed through the veil – passed beyond the barrier between life and death from whence there was no return. To try to bring him back from the Beyond was hopeless.

  
But Effy had never been good at giving up.

  
With a broken scream Effy mustered the last of her power and punched _through,_ using more magic than she ever knew existed to relight the spark within him that had long since sputtered out. Her mind begged for Cole to see it from the Beyond.

  
  
_Come back!_  
  


  
The power of her blood sputtered, her life force rapidly fading as she lingered halfway within the Beyond, knowing that unless Cole could reach through to her then it would have all been for nothing. Her body shivered, her heart beating sluggishly as things started to fade away.

  
  
_Cole_ , her mind pleaded.  _Don't leave me!_  
  


  
The last thing she saw before her eyes fluttered shut was a brilliant cascade of lights.

  
  
_I’m here._  
  


  
Effy faded into darkness with a smile.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Effy awoke, the first thing she registered was surprise. She had not expected to wake up again.

  
Not ever.

  
She whimpered. It felt like her body had been trampled by a horde of High Dragons. Her eyes fluttered open and met with a pair of icy blue orbs hovering inches above her own.

  
“You’re awake!” Cole exclaimed, his face alighting with relieved exuberance. He leaned down and pressed his lips chastely against her cheek, and although she felt a spark of pleasure, she was too off-kilter to truly enjoy it.

  
Cole pulled back a moment later, his eyes now panicked. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that! I’m doing it all wrong!”

  
“Easy, it’s okay,” she soothed him. Her mind churned as it caught up with what was happening, and she all but lunged out of the bed to grasp him into her arms. “Maker’s breath, but you’re alive!”

  
He clutched at her, his grip almost desperate in its intensity. “Yes, I’m alive. But you almost died! Flitting, fading, drifting between the veil. You gave everything you had until there was nothing left but embers amongst the ashes.”

  
She burrowed her head into his chest, savoring the sound of his voice as it washed over her. He smelt of snow and copper, with an underlying spice that she couldn’t quite describe.

  
“It was a sacrifice that I was willing to make,” she said simply.

  
He growled a low rumble that reverberated through his chest. His arms clenched her even tighter against his torso. "Unacceptable. My life means nothing. A stolen shadow that plays at being flame. You are irreplaceable. You are the _sun_.”

  
His voice was thick with raw emotion, and Effy felt her heart quicken in response. She was about to respond, to tell him that she would gladly do it all over again, when they were interrupted by a polite cough at the entrance of the tent.

  
Effy made to pull away, but Cole’s arms remained stubbornly wrapped around her. He loosened his hold just enough for her to turn her head and spot the newcomer, who was none other than Mother Giselle.

  
“Herald. I’m glad to see that you have finally awoken,” Mother Giselle greeted, observing their continued embrace with unveiled speculation.

  
“Mother Giselle,” Effy acknowledged, fighting off the faint blush spreading across her cheeks. She made a half-hearted effort to pull away once more, but Cole refused to budge. The corded muscles in his lean arms were stronger than iron as they held her in their embrace. She might've been angry, but in truth, she didn’t want to move away. Cole was warm and alive and right there, and it was the only proof she had that her sacrifice had not been in vain.

  
The gigantic smile that burst from Cole’s face as she nestled closer in acceptance was worth whatever judgment Mother Giselle might pass.

  
“How are you feeling?” Mother Giselle inquired with the smallest of frowns. “You were barely alive when your... friend, brought you to us. Many feared the worst, but it seems the Maker has spoken yet again.”

  
“Sore,” Effy admitted. “And tired. But otherwise I’m alright. How are our people? Did everyone make it out okay?”

  
“We lost many soldiers in the battle, but your bravery prevented the loss of countless more,” Mother Giselle informed somberly. “Chancellor Roderick also passed away in the night. He knew of a secret path into the mountains, and it is thanks to him that we were able to evacuate everyone to safety.”

  
“Really? Who’d have thought, the stuffy old codger actually died a hero,” Effy said, her words made less irreverent by the somberness of her tone. “But where are we, exactly? Are we safe from Corypheus?”

  
“The truth is, we have no idea where we are. Which makes it unlikely that Corypheus knows where we are either. This is perhaps why we have seen no sign of him, despite the numbers he still commands. Or perhaps he assumes you are dead. I cannot claim to know the mind of that creature.”

  
The conversation lulled to a pause as Effy heard raised voices arguing outside the tent. She recognized the frustrated voice of Cullen, as well as the exasperated edge of Cassandra. Effy had no doubt that Leliana and Josephine were involved as well.

  
“Your advisors have had a difficult time deciding on a course of action,” Mother Giselle observed. “The infighting may prove just as dangerous as Corypheus if left unchecked.”

  
“Can’t they do anything without me?” Effy sighed, finally disentangling herself from Cole. He made a noise of protest but ultimately let go. She knew how he felt. Part of her wished that she could stay in the tent wrapped in Cole’s arms forever, but the logical side of her knew that it was only a brief reprieve before the madness started again in earnest.

  
“Another heated voice wont help,” Mother Giselle cautioned. “Especially yours.”

  
“What do you mean?”

  
“You must understand the esteem in which you are now held by those who survived. We have seen our Herald stand. And fall. And now she has _returned_. The more the enemy is behind us, the more miraculous your actions appear. To many, the Maker has delivered you to us from the jaws of death itself. It would not be good for the people to see you bickering amongst your advisors. What we need now, more than anything, is hope.”

  
“Then the people are sheep,” Effy stated, a bit more harshly than she intended. “It is thanks to Cole that I survived the avalanche. There was nothing sacred or miraculous about it.”

  
“Of course. And the dead cannot return from across the veil. But the people know what they saw, or perhaps, what they needed to see. The Maker works both in the moment, and in how it is remembered. In the face of such events, can we truly know that the Maker is _not_ with us?”

  
Effy prayed that Mother Giselle did not notice her flinch. Because someone _had_ been brought back from across the veil. And there was nothing divine about the blood magic she had used to do it.

  
“Can we truly know that they _are_?” Effy responded sharply. “I thought my mark to be a gift from Andraste. For the first time in my life, I thought that the Heavens had finally spoken to me. That after a lifetime of doubt, the Maker had finally revealed himself to me in my darkest hour. I thought, maybe religion _isn’t_ a bunch of nonsense that old ladies use to make themselves feel important. Maybe there _is_ something out there that cares whether we live or die. But I was wrong. My mark is nothing more than a creation of Corypheus that was turned against its purpose. It was all just _bullshit_!”

  
Mother Giselle looked shocked at her outburst. But that soon gave way to a speculative sort of pity, and it made the tent seem far too small for Effy’s liking. So she turned and fled from the tent before Mother Giselle could make some stupid comment about the unseen hand of the Maker. It was the last thing Effy that wanted to hear. Cole followed behind her, his hand grasping her elbow in silent support. But even that seemed to be to much.

  
She didn’t deserve his kindness or comfort.

  
“You do deserve it,” Cole stated firmly as they walked outside. “You deserve so much more.”

  
Effy was unsure how Cole had managed to read her thoughts so well, but puzzlement soon gave way to startled surprise as she took one step and sunk knee deep into the snow. They were clearly in the middle of the Frostback mountains, and the air was so cold that she could practically feel her breath freezing in her lungs. Their makeshift camp of tents and wagons looked like it might blow over with one stiff breeze. Cullen, Josephine, Cassandra and Leliana all stood in various posts around the camp, eerily similar in the dejected bow of their heads. The few people milling around were completely silent and kept their glassy gazes fixed firmly on the ground in front of them.

  
They had given up.

  
It was then, as Effy contemplated the futility of their actions, that a crystal clear voice broke through the silence and warbled hauntingly in the air.

 

_Shadows fall, and hope has fled,_  
_Steel your heart, the dawn will come._  
_The night is long, and the path is dark,_  
_Look to the sky, for one day soon_  
_The dawn will come._

  
As Mother Giselle approached and sang next to Effy, the people finally looked up and noticed the presence of their Herald. One by one they dropped to their knees in reverence, and others began to take up the tune, starting with Leliana.

 

_The Shepherd’s lost, and his home is far,_  
_Keep to the stars, the dawn will come._  
_The night is long, and the path is dark,_  
_Look to the sky, for one day soon_  
_The dawn will come._

 

Effy spotted Solas lingering near the back of the crowd, which now had all the makings of a holy choir. Cullen was singing, and so was Josephine, and even Cassandra. Solas’s eyes gleamed as he observed the spectacle, no doubt understanding the importance and the implications of such an event far better than she.

  
Effy just couldn’t help the tears that welled in her eyes as the people looked at her with so much _hope_.

 

_Bare your blade, and raise it high,_  
_Stand your ground, the dawn will come._  
_The night is long, and the path is dark,_  
_Look to the sky, for one day soon_  
_The dawn will come._

 

Everyone broke out into jubilant applause as the last note faded, swept up in the wave of joy and faith that was now pulsing like a living thing. The people had a purpose again. And it was all thanks to…

  
“Mother Giselle,” Effy whispered, and the words sounded dangerously like gratitude.

  
“Faith is made stronger by facing doubt,” Mother Giselle said knowingly. “Untested, it is nothing.”

  
And with that, Mother Giselle wandered off.

  
Cole was gone as well, and a quick search revealed him to be tending to the body of Chancellor Roderick. Perhaps he thought to give her a moment alone with her thoughts.

  
Perhaps she needed it.

  
“A word,” stated a firm voice from behind her, which quickly revealed itself to be Solas.

  
Or perhaps not.

  
Effy nodded and followed the elf as he nimbly climbed up a nearby slope away from the other people. He lit a nearby torch with a wave of his hand, illuminating the scene with a ghostly blue light. He gazed at it pensively, taking the time to carefully choose his words. Effy got the feeling that she was about to learn even more unsettling information.

  
“Mother Giselle is a wise woman,” he finally settled on. “Her kind understand the moments that unify a cause. Or fracture it.”

  
“A cause, perhaps. But what about a person?” Effy wondered bitterly, her eyes fixed on her marked palms. “What about _me_?”

  
Solas followed her gaze, his face inscrutable as he landed upon her healing cut. His next words were delicate, as if sensing her internal conflict on the matter.

  
“I will not bandy empty words, for you have no need of them. I know what you have done. I sensed the echoes of it in the Fade. And truth be told, I find your actions quite extraordinary.”

  
“ _Extraordinary_? The people think me to be the next Andraste, but I’m nothing but a… but a…!” Effy spluttered, unable to even speak the words.

  
_A blood mage_.

  
“We’ve had this conversation before,” Solas interrupted her gently. “Is Cassandra defined by her cheekbones? Or Varric, by his chest hair? We are more than the sum of our parts. You have inspired many today with your actions. And you have deeply inspired _me_ with the one action you revile most of all. I’m not sure you understand the significance of what you’ve done.”

  
“I _understand_ that I’ve used magic in such an unholy way that it would put Corypheus to shame,” she hissed. “And nobody can ever know. The Inquisition would crumble, and all the good that we’ve accomplished would amount to _nothing_.”

  
“You did what you did to save the life of someone you cared about. If the Maker cannot appreciate such a selfless act, then perhaps he is not the Maker at all. But I digress – you are correct. We cannot tell anybody about the magic you have done. Many would not be able to look beyond the means you used, and for those that could… People have been deemed Gods for lesser acts of magic.”

  
Effy blanched, and Solas rewarded her with a small smirk. “Ah, but I did not ask you here to discuss your pending Godhood. You have trusted me, and so now, I must trust you to keep my confidence for what I am about to share.”

  
“Just so long as you never mention the term ‘Godhood’ again,” Effy muttered darkly.

  
Solas’s smile briefly widened, before reverting back to his typically stoic countenance. “Very well. The orb that Corpheus carried, the power he used against you – it is Elvhen. Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must’ve caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. I do not yet know how Corypheus survived, nor am I certain how people would react if they learned of the orb’s origin. The results could prove disastrous for the elves."

  
“And how do you know all of this? What exactly _is_ the orb?”

  
“I know because I have seen similar orbs in the Fade,” Solas responded. “They were foci, used to channel ancient Elvhen magics. Many were attributed to the Elvhen Pantheon. Corypheus may think it Tevinter, but his empire’s magic was built upon the bones of my People. Knowing or not, he risks maligning all of the elves, and that is something I cannot allow.”

  
“The Evhen Pantheon…” Effy wondered, her lips pursing in thought. “Is there by any chance an Elvhen god associated with  a Wolf?”

  
Solas’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Why do you ask?”

  
While innocuous, his reaction struck Effy as _off_. There was something there - a prickling in the back of her neck, an intuitive sense that there was something deeper going on as he stared at her with more intensity than such a simple question should warrent. Which is perhaps why instead of telling him what Corypheus had said regarding the power of the Wolf, she instead responded with a nonchalant, “No reason. It’s the only Elvhen god I’ve vaguely heard of. The Dalish use it as a curse word. What’s his name? Fenhedis-something?”

  
Solas’s face reverted back so quickly to his typical amused politeness that she almost questioned whether she had even seen it change in the first place.

  
Almost.

  
“I’m not surprised you know that one,” he chuckled. “I believe the one you are thinking of is Fen’harel. He’s something of a Dalish cautionary tale. It is possible that he once claimed an orb similar to the one Corypheus carries – but unlikely. He was something of a pariah amongst the Gods, and therefore unlikely to have been attributed any artifact of significant power.”

  
“Interesting. You’ll have to teach me more about the Elvhen pantheon. I would prefer to be well-informed in the event that the origin of the orb was somehow revealed to the public at large. Perhaps I could then serve as a voice of reason to prevent the elves from once again becoming scapegoats. I might be pants at tact and diplomacy and pretty much anything that requires playing well with others, but I imagine having the Herald of Andraste on your side couldn't hurt. Humans have a bad history of blaming the elves for their problems, especially _holy_ humans. But fuck that - if it comes to it, then I will do my best to break that cycle.”

  
“I appreciate the sentiment,” Solas acknowledged. “But there are steps that we might take to garner goodwill on behalf of the elves so that if revealed, the orb’s origin would serve as little more than a distraction. Scout to the North. There is an ancient Elvhen castle that waits for a force to hold it. It is a place where the Inquisition can build – can _grow_.”

  
…

  
…

  
…

  
“Skyhold.”

 

 

 


	3. The Third Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cole struggles with reconciling his need to help Effy with his integral purpose to help others. Poor Cole :(

Cole didn’t leave Effy’s side for three days.

  
Of course, she didn’t know that.

  
She didn’t even know that he was there.

  
For three sunrises and three sunsets he watched from the shadows and protected Effy as she settled everyone and everything into Skyhold. There were many who needed her help, and even more who needed his. But he found that despite the doubt, the whispers in the dark, the bone-deep uncertainty that came from not helping where he could, he could not bear to be separated from her for more than a couple of minutes. She was simply too important. Something within her called to him as a light might a moth – utterly irrefutable, and almost as certain to result in his destruction.

  
Even now, as Cole carefully watched Effy from his vantage spot on the roof, he was nervous about being so far away from her.

  
The problem was, he also could not ignore the silent cries tearing through his mind from the other people in pain scattered throughout Skyhold. He couldn’t ignore them, but he couldn’t act on them. Because he had to stay near Effy. He was already too far away.

  
_Hurts so much, so much pain! I miss my darling Grialda. I’m all alone. I don’t want to die alone_ , Cole heard from a wounded soldier down below in the courtyard. The soldier was in pain, and Cole knew that he should help. That he _needed_ to help.

  
But he couldn’t. Effy was about to give her speech in front of the entire Inquisition. _Faces, eyes, so many of them! They’re all watching me. Why are there so many eyes? Do they ever blink?_ – and while Effy was anxious over the sheer number of people, Cole was worried about how many of them might want to hurt her. He had stolen the daggers from the most likely candidates in advance, but he didn’t know who else might be out there, or if they had gotten new weapons…

  
_I have to stop the pain. Heal the hurt. But which pain? Which hurt? Tugging, twisting, pulling…_

  
“Corypheus must be stopped!” Effy declared, the power of her words pulling Cole out of his thoughts. “He will never let us live in peace. He intends to be a God and rule over a world filled with evil and darkness. But we can stop him. We _will_ stop him! And with the Maker at our side, we will destroy him once and for all!”

  
Her speech was met with a chorus of cheers as the crowd roared in support. Cole carefully watched the few who didn’t. Their thoughts were more violent than the others. They had lost friends and family at the Conclave and in Haven, and blamed Effy for their hurt.

  
“Wherever you lead, I shall follow!” Cassandra pledged. “Inquisition, will you follow?”

  
More shouts, even more raucous than before, filled the air within the courtyard.

  
“Will you fight?” yelled Cullen, setting off another round of affirmative cries.

  
“Will we triumph?”

  
The crowd exploded into thunderous applause.

  
“Your leader! Your Herald! Your Inquisitor!” Commander Cullen announced to a crescendo of the cheering crowd, unsheathing his sword and thrusting it into the air.

  
There would have been four others who unsheathed their blades and turned them towards Effy, had Cole not already stolen them away. It was more than he had hoped, but less than what he had feared, as evidenced by the twenty daggers currently stashed away in a barrel in the wine cellar.

  
_It’s HER fault Alessa died! Her fault, her FAULT! Get ready to die you!..._

  
_False Prophet of the Maker! Wicked! An affront! The Maker shall bless me for this righteous execution. For blessed are the righteous who…_

  
_They’re gone. They’re all gone. My babies… where are my babies? Bleed her. Bleed her out. See their faces in the blood. I want… I need…_

  
_Have to do the job. They paid me well. So much chaos, now is the perfect moment... but… where is my dagger?..._

  
**_–Forget –_ **

  
Effy bowed in acknowledgment and walked proudly up the steps into the Keep, Leliana and Cassandra following a respectful half-step behind her.

  
The crowd continued cheering for long minutes after Effy left. Four of their number looked rather confused about what they were cheering for, and why they were even there in the first place, but clapped along just the same. They were happy now. Free.

  
The applause ended when Commander Cullen gruffly ordered his troops to follow him back to the training yard. Everyone else slowly dispersed with the soldiers, leaving only the most devout pilgrims to continue mumbling their ardent adulations into the ground.

  
Cole breathed in relief and satisfaction. Effy’s speech had gone well. But it wasn’t just thanks to his own effort – Effy had played her part to perfection. Nobody saw the slight tremble in her hands as she hefted up the ceremonial sword into the air. Nobody saw the way her shoulders hunched as they accepted even more weight and responsibility.

  
Nobody but Cole, of course.

  
Cole stood up and stretched, his joints popping as he loosened his muscles and stared pensively at the frosty mountainside. Once again, he was back to worrying about Effy. Because he could protect her from external threats, but he couldn’t protect her from her own mind. Not unless he made her forget. But he couldn’t. Because making her forget would make _him_ forget, and he never wanted to forget anything about her ever again.

  
And even so, he couldn’t make the entire world forget. Too many people already worshipped her as the second coming of Andraste. Too many for him to change it, despite her hatred of that title and the pain it caused her. That was why today was so important. The decision to formally change her title from the Herald to the Inquisitor was a calculated one made between Effy and her advisors in the hope that it would lessen the religious undertones of her leadership without offending her more faithful followers.

  
It remained to be seen whether it would actually work.

  
Cole also knew that Effy was barely coping with all the stress and that came with leading such a massive organization. _Pulling, pushing, first one way and then another_ – all of her followers wanted something different. Cole wanted to be there for her, but he didn’t want to be another tie in an already tangled web. It was why he had followed her around in secret – _out of sight, out of mind, no more water in an already full cup._ But her presence wasn’t enough to silence the whispers from the darkness that had grown louder for every day that he stifled his urge to help others and instead focused on helping Effy. And the whispers made it hard to think. Sometimes his thoughts got lost amongst them. It made him feel wrong. Different.

  
But now, for the very first time, the whispers were silent. What happened at the speech had shown him a truth that, now that he knew it, seemed almost obvious in retrospect. The best way to help Effy was to help the people around her, so that they would not add their own problems to the growing tide of pressure. Helping others would help him, help them, and most importantly, help _her_.

  
_Speaking of which…_

  
Cole spotted Varric ambling up the steps to the battlements, his smooth movements at odds with the tumultuous state of his thoughts. And so even though Cole felt the unceasing pull to head back to Effy, Varric was here, and Varric was hurting, and so Cole decided to help.

  
For Effy.

  
He hopped down from the roof onto the battlements in front of Varric, who stumbled back and let out a string of surprised curses.

  
“Maker’s balls, you almost gave me a heart attack!”

  
“ _The hawk chases its shadow but it cannot escape the stone. A wolf follows the scent, for two is twice more than one. Are they the hunters or the hunted?”_ Cole recited. “You need not worry. You are not the bait.”

  
Varric peered at him. “You know what? I’m not even going to ask. Did you want something, or are you just here to scare the living daylights out of me?”

  
Cole shrugged. "I'm here to help."

  
“Help? No thanks. My mother taught me not to take candy from strangers. But I have to admit, you do look kind of familiar…”

  
Cole shrugged again. He liked Varric, but he had long since learned that not everybody he liked would remember him.

  
“Wait, I _do_ know you! You’re the one who fought with us against the Red Templars. But why am I just now remembering?”

  
“I don’t know,” Cole said sadly. “Sometimes thing just... slip.”

  
Varric peered more intensely at him, taking note of his threadbare leathers and his pale complexion beneath his wide-brimmed had.

  
“There’s more to you than meets the eye, isn’t there?” Varric asked, but it was more an observation than a question.

  
“Yes. But you need not worry – I am here to help.”

  
"So you've said," Varric stated, examining him a moment longer before nodding his head. “Alright Kid, I’ll bite. You’ve got Mystery written all over you with a capital M, and mystery just so happens to be my favorite genre. And as I recall, Sunshine actually seemed to _like_ you, which is as good a recommendation as you can get,” Varric decided with another nod. “You’ll have to meet the rest of the club.”

  
“I… club? Why would you want me to meet a club?” Cole wondered, his head canting in confusion. “Can weapons talk? I wouldn’t think they’d say very nice things.”

  
“Ahhh, now I see it,” Varric sighed with relief, a swell of tension released with a single exhale. “You’re a _Daisy_ weird, not a soul-corrupting, lyrium-wielding, Merideth sort of weird. Dodged an arrow with that one. I was almost worried for a second there.”

  
“But I'm not a Daisy. Or at least, I don’t think so. This is a hat, not a flower,” Cole helpfully informed him. “Although it does look like a flower. Maybe if clubs can talk, then hats can be flowers?”

  
Varric chuckled. “You’d make Daisy proud, Kid. Now I don’t mean to cut this short, but I actually have to get going. I’m meeting up with some friends and I wouldn’t want to be late.”

  
“Yes,” Cole nodded sagely. “The hawk and the wolf. I’m not friends with any hawks, but I do know a wolf.”

  
Varric blinked, his eyes suddenly coloring with worry. “Who told you about Hawke and Fenris?”

  
“You did.”

  
“When did I tell you?”

  
“Just now.”

  
Varric sighed, this time in exasperation. Cole could sense his confusion – he was afraid that others might know about Hawke and Fenris, or that the Kid had somehow been spying on him. But despite the more logical assumptions, he had already decided that the Kid was just _strange_.

  
“Alright Kid, you said you wanted to help? Go distract Cassandra for the rest of the day. She can’t find out that Hawke and Fenris are here.”

  
“Alright,” Cole agreed happily. Cassandra had been very stressed of late, and had been snippy to Effy as a result. It would make Cassandra feel better to have some distraction. Perhaps if he slid a book onto the table in front of her…

  
“Thanks Kid, I owe you one. We’ll talk more later,” Varric promised as he walked away.

  
“How do you know?”

  
Varric laughed and kept walking. Cole watched him go. Varric was anxious to see his friends, but thanks to Cole, a bit of that anxiety had given way to nostalgia. He was remembering the time when he, Hawke and Fenris all spent the day following a string of orange thread throughout Lowtown, only to find Daisy safe and sound in her own house in the Alienage.

  
Cole smiled. He had helped.

  
Now where to find Cassandra?

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Cole’s next few hours were spent doing all of the things that he had been too afraid of leaving Effy’s side to do. Of course, he still wanted to be near her. Wanted it desperately, in fact, with an intensity that defied logic or explanation. But he felt a renewed sense of purpose in his idea to help Effy by helping others. As the speech had showed, he could keep her safe that way.

  
And so for the first time in three days, Cole helped others. After deftly sliding the last book in the Swords and Shields series onto the bench next to Cassandra, he had burnt some turnips to help a new recruit remember home, and then had stolen some cheese and mint from the kitchen to make the cats play and the cook happy. The rest of his time was spent helping the last of the wounded soldiers, which is where he was now.

  
The soldier who missed Grialda was dying. He had a stab wound in the belly, and his body was poisoning itself from the inside. There was a slim chance that his body might fight the infection, but it was almost certain that he would die a long, agonizing death.  
There was no way to heal the hurt. The only thing Cole could do was to stop the pain.

  
Cole regretfully unsheathed his daggers to end the man's hurt, but paused as he heard two of Effy’s companions arguing as they headed down into the courtyard. His ears pricked in curiosity when he realized that they were arguing about _him_.

  
“That thing is a demon. We cannot allow it to stay here!” Vivienne insisted.

  
“Cole is no demon,” Solas rebutted. “He is a spirit. One who seems to have a very strong connection with Evelyn.”

  
“Then that is all the more reason to get rid of it! All it would take is one misspoken work, one moment of weakness, and our darling Inquisitor would became an _abomination_.”

  
“What’s this about me coming an abomination?” interjected a half-joking Effy, who had been heading down to the courtyard and upon hearing her name, had come to join the conversation.

  
“Madame de Fer and I were just discussing–"

  
“That thing,” Vivienne interrupted. “The one you call Cole. It is a demon. We cannot allow it to stay.”

  
Effy blinked, and then barked out a genuine laugh that took both Vivienne and Solas by surprise.

  
“Very funny guys. But hey, where did you last see him? I’ve been looking for him everywhere,” Effy said mulishly. “Oh, and a word to the wise - you might want to research your source material before you go around making jokes. I’ve known Cole since childhood.”

  
“I assure you, this is no joke,” Vivienne insisted. “That thing is not of this world. As the First Enchanter of Montsimmard, I was taught how to sense such things so that I could root out blood magic and demonic influence within the apprentices. And know this – I have sensed it following you, much like a demon would follow a blood mage. It lurks behind you like an overgrown shadow, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Tell me dear, are you truly going to allow a demon to stalk you? It is absurd to even discuss it!”

  
Cole sat down and sheathed his daggers, his attention now focused on listening to their conversation. He felt a thick rumbling within his gut that he recognized as anxiety. He was worried. Worried about how Effy would react once she realized that he was Cole, but also, not-Cole. Rhys had been terrified when he learned that Cole was more spirit than human. Would Effy be afraid of him? Would she hate him?

  
He had Cole’s memories. Cole’s body. But…

  
He wasn’t Cole. And now Effy was about to find out.

  
“Solas, will you please tell her she’s speaking nonsense?” Effy requested, her bemusement hiding her well-concealed panic. _I_ _s there a demon following me because I used blood magic? Does Vivienne know that I'm a blood mage?_

  
“She is not incorrect,” Solas stated carefully. “But her interpretation is blinded by the shortcomings of a Circle education. Cole is a spirit, not a demon. A spirit of Compassion, I’d wager. As such, I believe his intentions in following you are compassionate.”

  
Effy’s eyes widened. “Surely you cannot believe such nonsense? If there _is_ something following me, then it certainly isn't Cole! He is flesh and blood. He is a _man_."

  
“He is unique, certainly,” Solas allowed. “In all my years I have never seen a spirit manifest itself into an actual body. And to have survived for so long outside of the Fade on the basis of willpower alone, without possessing anyone, makes him a truly remarkable spirit.”

  
“Demon,” Vivienne corrected firmly.

  
“This isn’t funny anymore!”

  
“No dear, it is not,” Vivienne agreed. “A demon has taken the guise of your childhood friend in order get close to you and infiltrate our ranks. I daresay he will attempt a possession before long.”

  
“And that is where you err. Cole does not mean any harm. As a spirit of Compassion, such a desire is beyond his comprehension.” Solas stated factually.

  
Effy took a few deep breaths. “If this isn’t some sort of bad joke, then allow me to assure you – you are both wrong. Cole is a man. A man who has saved my life twice now. First when we faced Corypheus, and then again when he carried my unconscious body through the snow into the mountains. I do not say this to make you feel guilty,” Effy soothed, seeing Solas grimace. “I did, after all, force you to head back to the Chantry. I say it because Cole has had every opportunity to hurt me, and in every instance, he has not. To claim he is a demon is nothing short of preposterous.”

  
“Preposterous, you say?" Vivienne tsked with extreme disapproval. “This entire conversation is preposterous! We should kill it and be done with it. But I can see that you still don’t believe us. So go ask it yourself. Go on. It is _skulking_ right over there.”

  
Cole felt as their eyes turned towards him, and tried to hide the fact that he had been eavesdropping by fiddling with a dandelion sprouting from the ground.

  
“Very well. Then I’ll go talk to him. _Alone_.”

  
With a final scowl at Vivienne, Effy walked over to where Cole was sitting. Vivienne tried to linger, but when Solas very purposefully took hold of her elbow, she yanked her arm away and marched off.

  
“ _So young. So bright. If I had stayed in Ostwick I would have been her mentor. She would have never continued with this nonsense. I should just kill it…_ ” Cole murmured, the words trailing off as Vivienne walked further away.

  
Effy delicately crouched down onto the grass beside him.

  
“Did you… did you just read Vivienne’s thoughts?”

  
Cole saw no point in trying to hide it.

  
“Yes.”

  
Effy stared at him with such heavy silence that he could not meet her gaze, and instead trailed his fingers nervously over the yellow petals of the dandelion, wondering whether he would have to leave. If Effy asked him to, he would. He didn’t want to cause any more trouble. He was there to heal the hurts, not cause them. But he did not _want_ to leave. He did not want to leave _her_. She made him feel things. Strange things. Amazing things. Things that he wanted to keep feeling.

  
In all his life, he had never wanted anything but to exist. But now he wanted to be around her. To make her happy.

  
It was a change that was as sudden as it was disconcerting.

  
“Do you remember the last day we saw each other? Before Haven?” Effy finally asked into the silence.

  
“Yes,” Cole answered. He plucked the dandelion and held it out to her. “You told your mother that you were picking dandelions to make your brother some tea. But then…”

  
Tears welled in Effy’s eyes as she took the offered flower, and Cole immediately backpedaled.

  
“I’m sorry! Sometimes the words come tumbling out and I never know what knots they’ll tug. I didn’t mean to make it hurt.”

  
“It’s okay,” Effy murmured. But Cole didn’t even have to hear her thoughts to know that it was not.

  
Tentatively, Cole inched forward to place his hand on her shoulder. The moment his fingers landed, she gave a relieved sob and flung herself into his arms. Cole was engulfed with a flood of warmth that spread from his tightening chest all the way down to his toes.

  
“It _is_ you,” she breathed. “I _knew_ it was you.”

  
“I’m me,” Cole agreed. And for a moment, he considered leaving it at that. Telling her the truth would hurt her.

  
But not telling her would hurt her more.

  
So he pulled away. Neither he nor Effy actually wanted to let go – _two tides pulling together, swirling, down and down_ – but he had to tell her. He _had_ to.

  
“I’m me,” Cole repeated, looking deep into her emerald eyes. “But I’m not _him_. I’m not your Cole.”

  
“I… I don’t understand.”

  
“I have his body. His memories. But I’m not him. I’m something… different.”

  
Cole watched Effy’s face as it shifted from confusion to realization to guilt. “This is my fault!” she said in horror. “What I did – bringing you back. It changed you!”

  
“No,” Cole uttered firmly. “You did nothing but save me. I was already like this. Before.”

  
“How do you know? You might not be able to remember because it was so traumatic. Or maybe you’re just confused–”

  
“No!” Cole repeated. She was giving him every excuse to deny the truth, but he could not allow it. “You take the blame to ease the burden, but my weight is not yours to bear. _Fleeting, flitting, a whisper in a darkened hall, a shadow upon the doorstep when nobody is home_ – I have existed in this way for five years.”

  
Effy’s eyes widened. “But how? You... what happened to you?”

  
Silence echoed between them, as vast as any chasm.

  
“I died,” Cole finally said, his voice a quiet murmur floating upon the mountain winds.

  
Effy’s eyes widened. A war of emotions battled inside of her, each one dragging her down deeper and deeper.

  
“Cole died and I could not help him. So I… became him.”

  
“But… but I thought I brought you back?” Effy whispered.

  
_Shining, forever shining. Even now she refuses to give up hope._

  
“Cole died a long time ago. He was too far Beyond the veil for you to reach, but I was still flapping and fluttering by the entrance. It was me who you saved, and me who you brought back.”

  
She stared at him and the silence rang out, heavy and tremulous, a bowstring about to snap.

  
“Was Vivienne right?” she suddenly hissed, jerking back out of his reach. “Are you some sort of demon?”

  
“I don’t know,” Cole admitted with a heavy heart. “I don’t think so.”

  
“You tricked me!” Effy accused, moving back even further. Her mind was a whirl of thoughts and emotions coming too fast for Cole to decipher. But most predominant among them were anger and fear.

  
Cole moved forward, unable to deny the draw of her pain. He had to hold her. He had to _help_.

  
“Don’t come any closer!” she shrieked, her feet stumbling over each other in her haste to escape. “Just stay away!”

  
“But Effy -!”

  
“Don’t call me that! You are not Cole, you don’t get to call me that!”

  
“I am Cole!” Cole protested, his own voice rising in response to the harsh feelings in his gut as he continued towards her. Maybe once he hugged her everything would be okay again. “I want to help you!”

  
“I said STAY BACK!”

  
She pushed him, hard. Cole staggered back as she stumbled forward, underestimating her own strength. Cole heard a faint whistle and saw the slightest glint of blue in his periphery vision, and sensing a threat, instinctively lunged forward and tackled Effy to the ground. As they landed, a spiked icicle sailed past where her head had been not a moment earlier.

  
She stilled beneath him, her eyes widening as she took in the icicle impaled onto the ground nearby. Almost in slow motion, she tracked the trajectory back to a horrified Vivienne, who stood on the stairway above the courtyard, her hands wreathed in frost magic.

  
Cole was still laying on top of her, so he quickly scrambled up with a monstrous swell of shame. He had frightened Effy. He had caused her pain.

  
Never again.

  
“But you… But she…” Effy murmured, her thoughts careening with confusion. She stood up, her movements jerky and uncertain.

  
“She didn’t mean to. _I was right to stay and watch. Lunging, grabbing, the demon is attacking the Inquisitor! NO MOVE OUT OF THE WAY!_ ” Cole stated as Effy rounded her gaze towards Vivienne. “She was aiming for me, not you.”

  
“Stay out of my head you _demon_!” Vivienne snarled, freezing him solid with a wave of her hands.

  
“Wow,” Effy uttered, her voice a muffled drone beneath the thick casing of ice around Cole’s ears. “Well isn’t this just a shitshow. Really splendid work Viv. Because _of course_ it makes sense to send an ice spike towards two people in close quarters when clearly, you could’ve just _frozen_ him.”

  
“My apologies darling,” Vivienne muttered in a rare moment of humility. “I reacted instinctively. My only desire was to prevent the demon from hurting you.”

  
_Masks whispers and gilded carafes… Usually the mere threat of my magic is enough. I’ve never had to use it in an actual battle situation,_ Cole heard Vivienne think, the truth too dangerous for her to admit. She was uncharacteristically shaken – it had been a long time since Madame de Fer had made any sort of faux paus. And now she had almost just killed the Inquisitor.

  
“Funny. Because as it stands, it’s him who has saved my life from _you_ ,” Effy responded pointedly, tapping on Cole’s frozen form, the knocks echoing within his icy cocoon. “Is this really any way to treat my rescuer?”

  
Vivienne gathered herself up, her mask of iron returning like the lowering of a curtain. “My dear, how quickly you forget. That thing attacked you. And to attack the Inquisitor is punishable by death.”

  
_Panic, fear… He wasn’t attacking me. I think he was trying to hug me._ Effy thought, the words too confusing for her to say.

  
“Then shall I set two nooses?” Effy instead demanded.

  
Effy did not see the stricken look that flitted over Vivienne’s face, nor _could_ she see the flash of memory that played through Vivienne’s mind from when she’d killed the Marquis Alphonse Mont-de-Glace for his ill-advised insult to the Herald at Duke Ghislain’s estate. Effy had not meant to, but she had just used her rank and station in a similar way to outmaneuver Vivienne herself. It was a victory that even masters of the Game had never won against the infamous Madame de Fer. So while Vivienne was troubled that the Inquisitor would threaten her life so casually on account of _that creature_ , she couldn’t deny that she was also begrudgingly impressed.

  
“Well done dear, you’ve made your point quite admirably. Now shall we go about our day and forget this unfortunate business ever happened?”

  
Effy gave a sharp nod. "Very well. But stop trying to kill Cole, or I might just change my mind.”

  
Vivienne’s jaw clenched. “I assume this means that it is staying?”

  
“Yes. Until he does something to lose my trust, he stays.”

  
“As you wish. Just know that I will be watching. And if that thing ever puts so much as a toe out of line, I will not hesitate to strike it down.”

  
With that said, Vivienne spun around and stalked away, unfreezing Cole with a backwards wave of her fingers. Cole spluttered as he collapsed onto the ground, the air too hot and the words too loud.

  
“Are you alright?” Effy asked him, placing a delicate hand on his back in concern.

  
Cole gasped at the heat from her touch, scorching against his chilled skin, even through the leathers of his shirt.

  
It felt so good. It felt _too_ good.

  
He didn’t deserve it.

  
Cole pulled away, shaking off her hand as he stood up. “Angry words, said without meaning, a friendship forever changed. You should not have stood up for me. I don’t mean anything.”

  
Effy’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Don't worry about Vivienne. She and I have never been what you might call 'friends.' In case you haven't noticed, I don't have too many of those. And regardless of whether she's my friend, I’m not just going to sit and watch as someone gets attacked. You might not be _him_ , but you’re somebody, and you don’t deserve to be mistreated."

  
“Maybe I do deserve it. I tried to hug you. I _frightened_ you,” Cole stated miserably.

  
Effy grinned. “It takes a bit more than some overzealous hugging to frighten me.”

  
Cole said nothing. Because while she was willing to forgive and forget, she _had_ been frightened. It was something he could never forgive. And while he could make himself forget, he wouldn’t. How else would he know not to do it again?

  
“So,” Effy stated awkwardly after a few moments of mutual scrutiny. “Spirit Cole, huh? I would say ‘Nice to meet you,’ but I’m not going to lie – this is the worst thing that has happened to me all year. And this has been a _bad_ year. But Maker knows that it’s no weirder than half of the shit that has already happened, so at the very least, I owe you a chance to prove yourself. And I also want to thank you for saving my life. Again.”

  
“Don’t thank me,” Cole disagreed. “To thank implies that I’ve done something special. A favor. Something I didn’t have to do. But saving your life was not optional. You mean _everything_.”

  
Effy coughed, her face blushing the faintest tinge of pink. “That’s very… well, I’m not sure how you can say that. Because if you truly are a different entity than Cole, then we’ve only known each other for a week.”

  
He felt the sudden urge to reach out and touch the flush of her cheeks, fascinated that mere sounds uttered from his mouth had put it there. But he couldn’t. Because she was the Inquisitor. And he was…

  
Not Cole.

  
But she was wrong to say that he didn’t know her.

  
“You were born twenty-two years ago. Your family moved to Orlais when you were eight years old. You once told me that the thing you liked the most about the countryside was the smell of orange blossoms and rain. Your mother ran the household but you never felt close to her – _too tight, too stuffy, always laced up_ – she tried to make you memorize the Chant of Light but you hated the way burning Chantry candles made your eyes scratch. You were much closer to your father, Lord Stuart. Sometimes when he went through his letters he would sit you on his knee and give you his monocle to wear so that you could pretend to be a Lord like him. Your family owned an entire orange grove that we used to play in – _running, hiding, count to twenty, I swear I’m not peaking!_ – until one day you stepped on a hornets nest and were stung half a hundred times. After that you were too afraid to go back, and so we started fishing in the nearby creek. You always wanted to release the fish once we caught them – _swimming splashing, they never did anything to us!_ – but I finally told you that I sometimes didn’t have enough to eat at night. After that you gave me whatever fish we caught and my family never went hungry again,” Cole remembered wistfully. Ever since meeting her in Haven, these memories shone with perfect clarity. They weren’t his, but he still _remembered_.

  
“I even remember the day we first met,” Cole continued. “I was minding our carrot plants when you came galloping in on Buttercup. The first thing you said to me was ‘Ahoy, matey! Have you seen my –“

  
“ – Dubloons…” Effy whispered, squeezing her eyes to push back the tears.

  
Cole reached out to wipe away the tears that escaped her clenched eyelids, but stopped his fingers as they hovered a mere hairs-breadth away. He stared transfixed at the translucent droplets as they trailed down her cheeks. _What would they feel like?_ Cole wondered. But no. He couldn’t. He might hurt her again. He couldn’t touch her.

  
So he pulled his hand back right as her eyes fluttered open once more.

  
“I’m sorry,” Cole whispered, although he wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for. Everything, maybe. “I’m sorry that I’m not the same Cole that you remember. But those are _our_ memories. You are the most important thing in the world to me.”

  
And it was true. The first time Cole left the White Spire, he had known nothing of the world. Everything he saw was some strange marvel, some dark threat, some form of realness that he could never truly obtain. But he had adapted. Learned. Slowly, he had learned. And now it was as if he had once again emerged into a new world, one composed entirely of all things Effy. The urge to be next to her, to know her, to explore her, was frightfully strong.

  
“I… you…” Effy mumbled, her tongue thick with emotion as she took a moment to gather her thoughts. “I think I need some time to sort all this out. I just found out that my best friend is dead. And in his place is… you. It’s going to take some time for me to come to terms with that.”

  
“Of course,” Cole agreed. “Spinning, twisting, you need the silence so you can’t hear the echoes.”

  
“Right. Sure. Something like that. So… well… I know we still have a lot to talk about. And we _will_ talk about it. But for now, this is goodbye.”

  
“You’re leaving?”

  
“Yes, I’m heading out to Crestwood with Varric, Dorian and Blackwall. Varric has an old Warden contact that might know something about why the Wardens have disappeared. We’ll probably be gone for at least a month, but you can stay in Skyhold while I’m gone. I’ll make it clear that you’re not to be harmed.”

  
Cole nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Because if he didn't speak, then he wouldn't have to lie.

  
And he didn’t like lying.

  
“And hey, I know that this is all fucked up, but maybe when I get back I’ll actually have an answer for you. About me. And you. Us. That is, if you still feel the same way. Not that I assume you feel any specific way, but I mean, if you’re still here, still in Skyhold, and if I don’t die out in the field, not that I plan on dying, and Maker now I’m just rambling aren’t I?"

  
“We will see each other when you get back,” Cole vowed. And it was true.

  
Effy grinned, pulling him into a brisk hug that said _goodbye_.

  
“We better.”

  
And with that, she turned around and left. Cole watched her walk away. And five hours later, he was still watching as she and her group rode through the mountains on the path to Crestwood.

  
Watching and following.

  
From a distance, of course. He would follow her, but he couldn’t let her see him until they returned to Skyhold.

  
“I won’t leave you again,” he said aloud.

  
But there was nobody close enough to hear him.

  
Nobody but the whispers growing louder in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to comment and give feedback :) Next chapter covers all of Crestwood. Hope you enjoyed!


	4. The Fourth Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Here's a nice long Effy pov chapter for you guys. Crestwood part 1 - aka where Cole is in every section despite not technically being in any of them. Hope you enjoy! :)

Effy knew Crestwood was going to be a shitstorm the very first moment Scout Harding opened her mouth. 

There was a rift in the middle of the _lake_ , a well-organized group of bandits had set up shop in Caer Bronach, the cave Hawke was supposed to be hiding in was flooded, and then to top it all off, the village of Crestwood was under siege from an army of undead spewing from, guess where, the middle of the twice-damned _lake_.

“Right,” Effy muttered to an exhausted Scout Harding. “Better go save Crestwood, then.”

“Good luck Inquisitor,” Scout Harding saluted. 

And then they were off. 

It was the first time Effy had switched up her default group of Varric, Cassandra, and Solas, for reasons that were both practical and… _not_ practical. Blackwall was a logical choice, because despite Effy’s personal distaste towards him, he was a Grey Warden, and therefore might be able to offer insight in the meeting with the Grey Warden contact. Dorian, on the other hand, had been brought along so that Effy could avoid speaking with Solas and Vivienne for as long as humanly possible.

And of course, avoid _Him._

But she was already regretting both of her decisions. She didn’t like change. Hell, she _hated_ change. Every bad thing that had happened in her life, had happened because someone just couldn’t leave well enough alone. 

Awful things were bound to happen now that she had switched up her traveling group.

“Gray skies, moist earth, and the sweet stench of undead,” Varric breathed in, turning up his face towards the muggy rain. “Hawke sure knows how to pick ‘em. I bet the cave is going to be even _more_ damp and decrepit. Fenris must be _ecstatic_.”

“Scout Harding said the cave by Three Trout Farm is flooded,” Effy informed him with a grimace. He was the only member of the old group still with her for this trip, and she felt unaccountably guilty for giving him the bad news. “It’s been raining nonstop for two straight weeks, and the ground is too rocky to absorb it all. It was probably a… a flash flood, that filled up the cave.”

“Don’t worry so much, it’ll give you indigestion,” Varric dismissed with a wave of his hands. “This is Hawke and Fenris we’re talking about. It’ll take more than a little rain to bring down those two. No, they escaped, and they’ll figure out a way to let us know where they went. All we have to do is look for signs and trust our instincts.”

“Well I for one hope we find them soon,” Dorain opined as they carefully made their way through the slippery, rock-laden path. “It’s going to take _hours_ to scrub all the mud from my boots!” 

“A good soldier doesn’t care about fashion,” rebuked Blackwall, earning himself a snort from Dorian.

“Well then it’s a good thing I’m not a soldier. Could you imagine me in one of those drab uniforms? Perish the thought!”

“I dunno Sparkler,” Varric grinned. “Maybe the Inquisition ought to mass-commission uniforms like yours. Hawke and Fenris would be able to find us just by following the sparkles left in our wake.”

“Ahh yes, you rogues and your stealth. Well who needs stealth when you have perfection?” Dorian winked, alighting a fireball in his hand with a deft flick of the wrist, which quickly puttered out into a wisp of steam on account of the rain.

Effy and Blackwall groaned in unison, and upon realizing it, scowled and looked away.

Effy _really_ did not like Blackwall. Which, to be fair, wasn’t exactly unique. What _was_ unique was that Blackwall had made no secret of his dislike for her in turn.

_The stupid prick._

Their mutual animosity had everything to do with their first (and only) meeting after the horrific events at Redcliffe.

But of course, she couldn’t talk about the events at Redcliffe, without first talking about Dorian. She and the over-the-top mage had been thrust together a year into the future by the father of Dorian’s ex-lover. But ‘future’ was perhaps too generous a term – it was more like the last dying gasp of a world that had long-since ended. Together they had survived the same unspeakable horrors, and learned the same unspeakable truths. They were the only witnesses of an entire world whose existence would never come to pass. 

And yet…

They had never discussed what had happened. Neither of them _wanted_ to discuss it. Or at least, that’s what Effy assumed, since Dorian seemed rather blasé about the whole thing. She knew the type. They laughed and shrugged their shoulders in the face of terrible things, and in that way, lessened their importance. 

Effy knew, because she did it too. 

She just didn’t do it very well. 

The pain _lingered_ , right below the surface, bubbling up during stressful situations as anger and frustration. The worst of it had been on the way back from Redcliffe, her thoughts still a year in the future, the pain still fresh and hot. Vacillating between brooding and depressed, reckless and critical, it had gone so far that Varric had ironically dubbed her Sunshine. And it was on the way back from Redcliffe, leading the newly recruited mages atop the horses freshly procured from Master Dennet, that Effy had decided to check in on the Grey Warden lead as requested by Leliana. Because after what future Leliana had just suffered, after what future Leliana had just done for her – fuck, how could she _not_? 

Which was how she had met Blackwall. She found him dithering in the woods, doing nothing to stop the Breach or to help the world in any way. No. Instead, he was training up _farmboys_ , giving them such false hope that two of them had died facing a group of battle-hardened bandits before Effy could rush in and save the third.

_A waste of fucking space! A blemish to the Grey Warden name! A no-good sack of Bronto shit that was shat out of his mother’s vagina!_

She had screamed a number of things at Blackwall, of varying accuracy and feasibility. And when he had furiously demanded to join the Inquisition as a way to ‘reclaim his honor,’ Effy had laughed and spat at his feet. It was only after a flurry of whispered words and a heated conference with Cassandra that Effy had finally relented and allowed Blackwall to join.

After that disastrous meeting, Effy had avoided him ever since. 

In truth, she had avoided both him _and_ Dorian ever since. She had done her best to block out that entire trip to the Hinterlands. 

She avoided a lot of things. It was kind of her, well, _thing_. Avoiding the madness was the only way she knew to ensure that she didn’t sink it into it.

At least Dorian knew better than to take it personally.

“I see Grey Wardens up ahead!” Blackwall suddenly announced. “It looks like they just rescued a young woman from the undead. Wait here, l’ll go speak to them. Better me than an outsider.”

And then, without so much as a by-your-leave, Blackwall went forward and introduced himself to the two Grey Wardens. It was a mark of how much Effy’s temper had cooled since Redcliffe that she didn’t turn him into a popsicle right then and there. 

She just couldn’t muster the same anger, the same pain, as before. Not since Haven had fallen. 

_Not since Cole…_

Ah, but that was a whole other bag of marbles. One that she couldn’t open without losing a few of them.

“Gentlemen!” Effy boomed out, deftly interrupting her thoughts of Cole, as well whatever words were being spoken between Blackwall and the two other Wardens. “Good tidings! My companions and I thank you for clearing the road. Might I ask for your names and your purpose here?”

“Aye,” one of them replied. “Only if we can ask you yours, and how you came to be traveling in the presence of Grey Warden Blackwall.”

“I daresay that he’s the one traveling in _her_ presence,” Dorian sniffed.

“Indeed,” said Effy, putting on her thickest Vivienne-esque airs as Blackwall scowled in distaste. “You have the honor of addressing Evelyn Trevelyan, heiress of Ostwick, Herald of Andraste, and leader of the Inquisition. My business here is my own.”

“Herald!” the second Warden saluted, bowing down to one knee. “We are honored by your - !”

“Get up Fred!” the first Warden snarled, hoisting him back to his feet. “We don’t answer to the likes o’ her. The Grey wardens don’t answer to nobody but ourselves, you got that?”

“Y-yes, Warden Gulford.”

“Good. Now to answer your question, Miss _Herald_ , we’re looking for a fella by the name o’ Hawke. He doesn’t perchance have anything to do with your aforementioned ‘business,’ now, does he?”

“Hawke? Never heard of him,” Effy said airily, taking note of the rescued woman that was still lingering nearby, and how she perked up at the name Hawke.

“And also, Hawkes aren’t native to this area,” Varric informed the Wardens with complete seriousness. “The seagulls chase them off. Too much competition for the nesting sites.”

Warden Gulford scowled. “Maybe you saw him and didn’t know it. He’s a big fella, strong as a boar, carries around a giant greatsword. Seen anyone like that?”

“Hmm,” Effy mused in faux concentration. Truly though, she _was_ a bit curious as to why he thought Hawke, a lanky mage, was instead some boarish man wielding a greatsword. “Nope, can’t say that I have. What about you guys? Dorian? Varric?”

“I daresay I would’ve noticed if such a fine specimen had come prancing about,” Dorian scoffed. “He’d be the only thing worth looking at in this dismal place.”

“No boars around these parts,” Varric added with a subtle wink towards Effy. “They’re not native to the area. Their hooves are too soft for the rocky terrain, and the druffalo chase them off if they get too close. Too much competition for the foraging sites.”

Effy snickered, which she rather belatedly tried to pass off as a coughing fit. But the humor of the situation quickly evaporated the moment Warden Gulford drew his broadsword and brandished it towards her. “Our mission will not be mocked! Whether you know of Hawke or not, you’re traveling with a self-proclaimed Grey Warden, and all Grey Wardens have been ordered back to Orlais under the penalty o’ death, by order of Warden Commander Clarel! We came here for Hawke, but now we’ll be bringing Warden Blackwall back as well. I demand you release him into my custody!”

Effy paused, suddenly furious. The Grey Wardens’ demand to take Blackwall under penalty of death was nothing short of insanity. Something was going on – something far more sinister than the casual arrogance of two random Grey Wardens. They weren’t glowing red with Red Lyrium, but Effy had no doubt that Corypheus was involved somehow. It had his sort of stink all over it.

“Warden Blackwall stays with me,” Effy stated under no uncertain terms. “You two can either leave now, or face the consequences.”

“The hell with your consequences!” Warden Gulford spat.

“Y-you can’t mean to fight the Herald of Andraste?!” Fred spluttered, looking faint at the mere prospect. “Consequences from the Herald of Andraste could damn us, in this world _and_ the next! And our mission was only to find Hawke!”

“We’re here to find Hawke _because_ of Clarel’s order,” Warden Gulford stated with a squaring of his shoulders. “Every Grey Warden must be brought back to Orlais. This is your last chance. Give us Warden Blackwall or there will be bloodshed.”

“This is _your_ last chance. Leave now or die!” Effy retorted.

“In Death, Sacrifice,” Warden Gulford intoned, raising his sword as a reluctant Fred shakily unsheathed his own.

Effy scowled and gathered her magic. Why was it that she could never, not _once_ , manage to resolve a situation peacefully?

She twisted her staff as the two groups eyeballed each other, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Nobody saw the frost glyph she was silently and discretely etching upon the ground beneath the Wardens’ feet. The glyph, once finished, would freeze the two Wardens long enough for her and her group to leave without bloodshed. Because agents of Corypheus or not, Fred didn’t seem like such a bad kid, and for once, she wanted to do things _properly_.

But luck was not on her side. Because just as she was finishing the final line of the glyph, the standoff was broken as Warden Gulford took a single, stumbling step forward.

Only to be consumed by a gigantic fireball that whooshed up from the ground.

But the fire glyph didn’t just activate – it _exploded_. The two Grey Wardens blasted apart, bits of flesh and gore spewing forth in every direction. It splattered like rain over the group, the shell-shocked rescued woman, and everything else within a twenty foot radius.

Effy stared nonplussed at the island of blood she now stood within. She slowly reached up to wipe her face with the back of her sleeve, fighting nausea as it came away covered in charred brain matter and bloodied pieces of intestines. 

As one, the entire group turned to look at Dorian, who was lightly whistling as he examined his pristine fingernails, his outfit sparkling clean and untouched by the explosion of gore. 

“What?” Dorian asked, as if just now noticing his companion’s glares. “I was bored. They were _dreadfully_ dull.”

The rescued woman hurled the entire contents of her stomach, staggered to her feet, and ran off in a blind terror.  
And really, Effy thought that summed things up pretty nicely.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“So let me get this straight,” Effy asked, shucking off the drying remains of gore as they made their way towards the actual village of Crestwood. “The Grey Warden contact we’re looking for is _Hawke_?”

“No no, you already met Hawke,” Varric explained. “Garrett Hawke. Tall guy, kinda skinny, often seen in the presence of a glowing, brooding elf? He’s _the_ Hawke. The Grey Warden we’re meeting is his brother Carver.”

“Hawke has a Grey Warden brother?” Effy wondered. “He’s not in any of the stories. They only talk about his sister Bethany, and how she died fighting an Ogre while they escaped Lothering.”

“Yeah, I know the stories. I _am_ the one who wrote them. But Carver threatened me with disembowelment if I so much as hinted at his existence. Something about not wanting to be remembered as Hawke’s younger brother. I don’t know, the brothers Hawke have a complicated relationship. It’s sort of private, so try not to mention it when you see them. And _definitely_ don’t mention Bethany.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t say a word!” called out Dorian, who had been shamelessly eavesdropping. 

“Dammit Sparkler!” Varric sighed. “If it weren’t for you, we would have found Hawke already. Didn’t you see the look on that woman’s face when the Grey Wardens said Hawke’s name? She knew that name. Which means she probably knows where Hawke is hiding.”

“It’s not _my_ fault!” Dorian protested, turning to Effy. “You’re the one who didn’t freeze her before she ran off!”

“Yes, because that’s exactly what we should have done!” growled Blackwall, still simmering with anger over the entire incident. “We should have assaulted an innocent woman, mere moments after murdering the two people who saved her life! Tell me, what if she didn’t want to tell us anything? Would you have tortured her to make her talk?”

“Excuse me,” Dorian scoffed. “But I didn’t know that killing two people who were clearly trying to kill us, all to protect _your_ miserable hide, made me a murderer and a torturer!”

“They were only doing their duty! I should have gone with them. Why didn’t you let me go with them?” Blackwall suddenly demanded, rounding on Effy. “You didn’t even ask for my opinion on the matter!”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion on the matter, because your opinion _didn’t matter_ ,” Effy said harshly. “They threatened to kill us if we didn’t hand you over. You never should have revealed that you were a Grey Warden before we knew their intentions. That’s why you leave the talking to _me_. And you!” Effy added, looking pointedly at Dorian. “There are better ways to handle situations than blowing people to bits with fire glyphs. That woman will no doubt spread tales of the Inquisition’s cruelty. That sort of talk hurts the Inquisition’s cause. You both fucked up. _Don’t_ do it again. Understood?”

“Of course, your Inquistorialness,” said Dorian with a mock bow. Blackwall said nothing, which pretty much said everything.

“Good. Now,” continued Effy, her voice becoming more speculative, “Does anyone have any idea as to why the Grey Wardens have been ordered back to Orlais under penalty of _death?_ Because I don’t know about you, but that seems mightily suspicious to me. Corypheus-level suspicious.”

Blackwall shook his head, too upset to say anything else.

“I don’t know,” Varric admitted. “My Grey Warden contacts went dark a few months ago. Carver is the last one I’ve got. So whatever it is, it must be something serious.”

“It might be political,” Dorian mused. “Empress Celene might’ve cut a deal with them, and now plans to use them against her cousin Gaspard.”

“Or Gaspard plans to use them against her,” Varric offered. 

“Pure nonsense!” Blackwall snapped. “The Grey Wardens are sworn to neutrality. We don’t get involved in politics!”

“Right,” Varric deadpanned. “Because it was real neutral for the Hero of Ferelden to choose Bhelen as the new king of Orzammar, and to make herself and her boyfriend Queen and King of Ferelden. The very definition of ‘not getting involved’.”

Blackwall spat on the ground, fizzling with indignation but unable to think of a decent response.

“It’s a good theory,” Effy allowed in a mollifying tone. “But I don’t think its right. Those two Grey Wardens were literally willing to kill us, or die trying, in order to complete their mission. And I just can’t imagine anyone, much less Grey Wardens, having that sort of dedication for petty Orlesian scheming. Corypheus has something to do with this. I’m sure of it. I’m just wondering _how much_ he has to do with it.”

“You’re right,” Varric agreed after a moment of consideration. “This is too serious for Orlesian politics. We’ll add it to the list of things to ask Carver when we see him. And as for finding him goes, the village should be right up ahead. I’d bet my bosom that that’s where the woman ran off to. And if she doesn’t want to tell us what she knows, then I’m sure we can find somebody else who…” Varric trailed off, his head canting in sudden alert.

“Yes?” Effy prompted.

“Oh nothing. It’s just, I hear growling and screaming up ahead. It sounds suspiciously like a village being besieged by the undead.”

Effy sighed. 

“Of course it does.”

Sure enough, they rounded the corner and the gates of Crestwood came into view, surrounded on all sides by a mob of the undead.

“So am I allowed to blow _them_ to bits?” Dorian inquired, eyeballing the large pack of undead as they took notice of the four newcomers and began to shuffle towards them with renewed energy, their jaws slavering at the scent of fresh meat.

“Sure,” Effy agreed. “Just make sure that I don’t get showered in those bits, or I’ll make you wash my clothes by hand. With a _toothbrush_.”

Dorian laughed. “Wash your clothes? Honey, your outfit needed to be burned long before I did anything to it. I daresay what happened was an improvement – the blood adds a nice dash of fear to what was otherwise a drab ensemble.”

“Seriously?!” Effy demanded, furiously waving her staff to freeze a huge chunk of the undead before looking down at her plain grey robes, now covered in dried blood splotches. “Is my outfit really that bad?”

Varric snickered and launched a hailstorm of bolts, shattering a number of the frozen undead and breaking off the limbs of even more. “Don’t worry about it Sunshine. It’s not the outfit that matters, it’s the stories people tell about the person wearing it.”

“True, and the stories would be so much better if the Inquisitor wore something with a bit more panache!” Dorian insisted, launching a massive fireball at the frozen mound of undead.

Nobody realized his mistake until it was too late. The combination of roaring heat on top of that much ice released a fountain of steam that billowed forth in a thick cloud over the entire battlefield. The general dampness and stagnation of the Crestwood air made the fog linger, transforming their surroundings into a wet hazy soup.

“What have you’ve done?!” Blackwall yelled, his voice echoing from somewhere within the mist. “I can’t see anything!”

“Oh it’s _perfect_!” Varric crowed from somewhere to Effy’s left. “A horde of undead, shambling out of the foggy mist, coming to kill our intrepid hero as she courageously battles to defend the town of Crestwood! I couldn’t have imagined a better scenario if I tried.”

“Varric,” Effy said, her eyes frantically scanning the mist as she searched for the source of growling, which seemed to be coming from all around them. “Remind me to smack you when this is all over.”

“Love you too, Sunshine.”

And then the dead were upon them. 

Effy swung her bladed staff in wild arcs, unable to see more than a few feet in front of her. She was too afraid to use her frost magic for fear of harming one of her companions, and without the proper range to use her spells, she was forced to rely on her mediocre staff skills. 

Despite their earlier banter, it was truly a bad situation. Besides Blackwall, they were all ranged fighters that could barely hold their own in close quarters combat. Neither Effy nor Dorian knew how to cast a decent Barrier, and Blackwall couldn’t defend all three of them, especially since he couldn’t even _see_ them. 

At the moment, their only saving grace was that the undead were slow, groaning creatures, who couldn’t do much more than bite and scratch. 

But as Effy held back four undead at once with the horizontal length of her staff, just as three more approached from the right, their gnashing teeth began to look just as deadly as Corypheus’s dragon. 

“Fuck!” Effy screamed, pushing them back with a shaky, unpracticed Mindblast. “I need some help over here!”

“That makes two of us!” yelled Varric from somewhere behind her. 

“Three!” chimed Dorian.

“Are you blind, or just stupid?” Blackwall huffed after a cringe-worthy crunch of steel against rotting flesh. “Whatever spell you just used, cast it again! It cleared out some of the steam!”

Effy gritted her teeth but obligingly cast another Mindblast, the spell requiring far more effort than it normally should, since she barely knew how to cast it. But cast it she did. Once more. And then again. And another. And then four more, in rapid succession. 

Her mouth tasted like ozone by the time she ran out of mana, but she could make out the distinct outlines of all three of her companions, who were all laying flat on their asses a few yards away.

“Makers balls,” Varric huffed as Effy hurried over and hoisted him back to his feet. “That’s one powerful Mindblast you’ve got there. Have you been practicing, or are you just naturally gifted at pushing people away?”

“If you wanted to lay on your back for me, you could have just said so,” Effy sniped back. “Now is everyone okay? We need to get ready. The undead will be back at any second.”

“Oh I’m _fine_ , don’t worry about me, I’ll just pick myself back up,” Dorian drawled as he climbed to his feet, followed by Blackwall, who offered nothing but an affirmative grunt.

Once everyone was up, they huddled together back-to-back, eyes scanning the thinning mist, waiting in anticipation for the undead to show their ugly faces. Effy clenched her staff, her palms sweaty and her knuckles white with the intensity of her grip.

It was after two minutes of waiting, poised on a knife’s edge, primed to attack, that Effy finally realized what was different.

There wasn’t anymore growling.

“I’m not trying to jinx things,” Effy said tentatively, “But I think the undead might be gone.”

“Well now you’ve jinxed things for sure!” Varric groaned. “Now the Grandmaster Mother of Undead Archdragons is probably going to pop up out of the mud!”

“No… I think she might be right,” said Blackwall, sounding insultingly surprised. “I can’t hear any growling, and the mist is thin enough now that we should be able to see them. But I can’t see anything.”

“Can’t see anything, can’t hear anything... all we need is some rope and it’d be a real party,” breathed Dorian in relief.

“Perhaps a gag as well,” Effy agreed. her lips pursed in concentration. “Or maybe a muzzle. C’mon, let’s head to the gates. I don’t trust this at all. A horde of undead doesn’t just _disappear_.”

“You think it’s a trap?” Varric guessed.

“I don’t see what else it could be,” Effy affirmed with a crinkle of nervous worry on her forehead. “We need to be careful. Cluster formation everyone.”

“What the hell is a ‘cluster formation’?” scowled Blackwall, even as Varric moved in to cover her right flank. Dorian, for his part, just looked bemused.

Effy mentally cursed. This was why she shouldn’t have brought Blackwall and Dorian. They weren’t Cassandra and Solas, and they didn’t know their well-established formations. They didn’t know much of anything about traveling with her. There had already been enough fuck-ups to last an entire trip, and it was only the first day. 

“Nevermind. Just stay close to me, and Maker’s breath, be _quiet_!”

And so the group huddled close together and walked silently through the wispy remains of the mist, their eyes seeking out movement but finding nothing but shadows and pattering rain. They went directly towards the Crestwood gates with a nervous sort of determination, veering only to step around the corpses that riddled the ground. Beneath all the mud and grime, it was hard to tell which corpses were freshly killed undead, which were long-dead undead, and which were townsfolk that had died defending Crestwood. Many were already half-sunken into the muck, and Effy wondered how many would be claimed by the earth before the Chantry sisters could collect them. 

As on edge as they all were, it was with great relief that Effy and her group finally reached the gates.

The very sturdy and very _locked_ gates.

“Open up, in the name of the Inquisition!” Effy called out.

There were a few moments of silence, until a fearful voice finally answered, “Are you mad?! If we open the gates then those _things_ will get inside and eat us!”

“There aren’t any more undead, we took care of them all!” Effy hollered back.

Varric gave her a _look_ , but rolled his eyes and said nothing. 

“You… you killed them all?” asked the trembling voice. “How? Who are you?”

“You’re speaking to Evelyn Trevelyan, heiress of Ostwick, Herald of Andraste, and leader of the Inquisition!” Blackwall sneered back, his tone thick with dark sarcasm. No doubt he thought himself clever for mocking her rather grandiose introduction to the Wardens. 

“Herald of Andraste my arse!” exclaimed the gatekeeper, clearly possessing ears and therefore unable to miss Blackwall’s sarcasm. “No, I know _exactly_ who you are. You’re some of those bandits from Caer Bronach, come here to rob from innocent townsfolk!”

“I swear by the Maker, we’re not bandits!” assured Effy with a nasty glare at Blackwall. “I truly am the Inquisitor. So please, open the gates and let us pass!”

“That’s exactly what a bandit would say!”

“I’m not a bandit! I’m the Inquisitor! If you look over the gates, I can show you the Mark of Andraste on my palm!”

“Look over the gates so you can shoot an arrow in my face the moment I do? Not bloody likely!”

“We won’t shoot you! We’ve killed all of the undead, and now we just want to –  
”

“If you killed all the undead, then why are you so antsy to get in, eh?”

Effy looked at Varric for assistance, but he only shrugged. “The man’s got a point.”

“HAH! I heard that! No way you bandits are getting in now!”

“We’re _not_ bandits!” Effy shouted with mounting frustration.

“Are too!”

“Are not!

“Are too!”

“Are NOT! And I’ve had enough of this nonsense! By order of the Inquisition, I command you to open the damned gates!”

“No!”

“Open them!”

“NO!”

Open them, you fucking little cocksu-!” Effy screamed, only to be cut off by Varric placing a calming hand on her arm. 

“Easy there Sunshine,” Varric murmured in a low voice. “Yelling at him won’t help anything. Look around you – this isn’t so much a village as it is a ghost town. There can’t be more than three actual buildings behind those gates, and they’re about one stiff breeze away from crumbling apart.”

“And? What’s your point?” Effy asked in a hushed tone, mindful of the gatekeeper’s keen hearing.

“My point is, maybe the gatekeeper is right to be afraid of bandits. Something has been bleeding this town dry, and it’s been happening for way longer than the undead have been here.” 

“So you think the bandits…”

“I think they’ve been terrorizing this place for some time. They probably haven’t wiped out the village yet because the townsfolk pay some sort of tribute. I’ve seen situations like this before, and I’ll tell you one thing – it never ends well for the villagers.”

Effy felt her ire seep away as she considered Varric’s words. The more she looked around, the more she realized it was true. The houses outside of the gates were little more than crumbled piles of rotting wood, and the rooftops inside the village looked like they were already halfway there. The spiked wooden gates were the most solid structure around.

“I see what you mean,” Effy said, her voice still hushed. “But if the bandits are so powerful, then why haven’t we seen any yet?”

Varric reached up and flicked her squarely on the forehead. “I know there’s a wonderful brain hidden somewhere behind that thick skull of yours. Why do you _think_ we haven’t seen any bandits yet? They’d have to be downright stupid to leave the safety of Caer Bronach with a horde of shambling undead on the loose.”

Effy rubbed her forehead, suitably abashed.

“Hello? Are you bandits still out there?” called out a new voice, with a bit more authority and a lot more nervousness than the gatekeeper. “It’s the Mayor. Look, I’m sorry if Gauld offended you. He didn’t mean nothing by it. It’s just that we already paid our tribute for this month, and Blood-Axe Boggen promised there wouldn’t be any more raids so long as we paid our tribute. Now I know this month’s shipment was a little light on food, but we thought that the extra Elfroot –”

“No need to continue,” Effy interrupted. “Gauld the gatekeeper was mistaken. We’re not bandits, and we’re not here to raid the village. We’re with the Inquisition. You’re speaking to Evelyn Trevelyan, leader of the Inquisition and Herald of Andraste.”

“The Herald of Andraste?!” the Mayor exclaimed incredulously. “By the Maker, what are you all standing around for? Open the gates!”

“But what if they _are_ bandits?” Gauld asked fearfully. “Jana said they were dangerous! If we let them in, they could kill us and – !”

“I don’t give a rats arse what Jana said! They could get in and kill us all no matter what we do! The Eastern wall is completely collapsed, and no amount of shrubs or wheelbarrows would stop them if they really wanted to hurt us!”

“But Mr. Mayor, sir, I don’t think – !”

“No buts! Now open the gates!”

There was a moment of silence, followed by a loud groan, as the solid wooden gates creaked open inch by ponderous inch.

Effy and Varric shared a look. It seemed that everything they had suspected about the village was true.

This was further confirmed when once the gates finally opened, Effy and her companions stepped forward and were met the most motley group of villagers that Effy had ever seen. They were all clothed in various scraps of dirt-covered rags, and were armed with a haphazard assortment of farm tools and kitchen wares. A smattering of young children clung to the back of their parents’ legs, their eyes wide with fear and hunger.

“Erm… greetings,” Effy began, her heart panging to see the true desperation of these people. “As you all might have heard, my name is Evelyn Trevelyan. But you might know me better as the Inquisitor, or the Herald of Andraste.”

At this, she raised her glowing palm and let out a small pulse of green rift magic. A few of the villagers took a startled step back as the green hued magic crackled in the air, but then stared in silent awe at the lingering rift magic as it faded away into the rain-speckled air. 

Silence.

More silence.

And then, with a swell of cheers, the tension was replaced by a wild sort of relief as the villagers fell to their knees in supplication.

“The Maker has finally answered our prayers!” cried out a voice from within the group of villagers.

“Herald!”

“Blessed be the Maker!”

“Prophet of Andraste!”

“We’re saved! We’re finally saved!”

Effy looked at her companions for help as the villagers began crawling forward to kiss the hem of her blood-splattered robes. She was quickly being overwhelmed, and her stomach clenched with guilt at continuing to play the role of ‘Herald of Andraste,’ even knowing the mark on her palm was false. She wanted to tell them no, that she wasn’t Holy, that this was all some massive lie that she continued to tell for political purposes – but how could she? They were so happy, and they had so much hope…

“Yes, yes, enough of that!” Dorian finally spoke up, delicately shooing the villagers away. “The Herald loves you, as she loves all her subjects. But please, some space!”

“Everyone will have time to meet with the Herald at dinner,” Varric continued, leaning down to help an elderly woman back to her feet. “The Inquisition will provide enough food for everyone to feast come sundown.”

“But we don’t have any – ”

“Furthermore,” Varric continued, cutting right over Blackwall, “Fresh water and medical supplies will be made available to anyone who needs them. So please, everyone come join us tonight!”

His announcement was met by another chorus of cheers from the townsfolk, some of whom were so grateful that they started weeping. 

“Wait!” Effy shouted over the general clamor. “Where is the Mayor? I need to speak with him!”

“I’m the Mayor,” said a graying man, stepping forward in introduction. “And I must admit, I’m not the religious sort. But if you lot are really going to help us, then I might have to start believing in miracles.”

“Yes, we’re going to help you,” Effy declared, earning an approving nod from Varric. She wasn’t quite sure when a simple mission to find Hawke had turned into restoring order to an entire area, but she’d be damned if she let these villagers, these _children_ , continue to suffer and starve while she watched and did nothing. If she was to continue with this charade as Herald, she might as well use it to do some good in this world. “I’m going to get this entire area back on it’s feet. But first things first – I need to find a man named Hawke, and I need to seal the rift in the middle of the lake. Do you know of anyone by that name, or know of any way to get out there?”

“I don’t know anybody who goes by the name Hawke,” the Mayor replied with apparent honesty. “But there _are_ some caves that lead to where the rift is. I don’t see how they’d do you any good, though. They flooded ten years back during the Blight, when the darkspawn came and destroyed the dam controls.

“If we repaired the controls, do you think it’s possible to drain the lake and reach the caves?” asked Effy.

“Drain the lake? B-but why would you want to do that?” stuttered the Mayor.

Effy raised a perplexed eyebrow. “So that I can get to the caves and seal the rift. We literally _just_ went over that.”

“Uhh… yes! Yes of course!” the Mayor agreed, nervously wiping off his brow. “But I’m afraid it’s quite impossible. The controls to the dam are through a tunnel leading out of Caer Bronach. You’d have to fight through a hundred bandits just to get to them. And the darkspawn damaged the controls pretty badly, so they might not even be repairable.”

“Damn,” Effy sighed, doing her best to shove down her frustration. With that many bandits in a well-guarded keep, taking it with just the four of them was out of the question. It would take at least three days to send word to Skyhold asking for reinforcements, and another week after that for the reinforcements to actually arrive. 

But then again, she knew that she needed to kill the bandits in Caer Bronach to have any chance of stabilizing Crestwood. 

“Oh and… if you could…” continued the Mayor. “If you meant what you said about providing food for tonight, then you might be in for a difficult time. There’s been a dragon hunting around these parts. It’s eaten up most of the big game, and nearly all of our livestock. We tried to kill it ourselves, but it snapped Harrod’s head clean off his shoulders, and we haven’t tried again since. With all the undead, and all the bandits, well, we just don’t have the manpower…”

“I understand,” said Effy, fighting back another sigh. Killing a dragon was no small feat, and would require even more resources than killing the bandits. “I’ll take care of it. Now is that everything?”

“Yes, I think that’s – ”

“Wait!” interjected the familiar voice of Gauld the gatekeeper, which Effy could now see belonged a balding middle-aged man that came rushing over. “It’s nice to meet you face-to-face. I figured I owe you an apology for giving you so much trouble. You see, right before you showed up, Jana came running in covered in blood, yammering about some folks who killed a group of Grey Wardens. She said they were with the Inquisition, and well, I didn’t believe her at first. Thought the undead had her spooked, you see? But when you lot showed up, I just assumed you must’ve been the same people, and that since you killed the Grey Wardens, you must’ve just been bandits pretending to be with the Inquisition – ”

“No need to apologize,” Effy cut in. “I’m actually the one who needs to apologize for that unfortunate incident. But what Jana said was true. The Grey Wardens tried to take one of my men, and I refused. There was an altercation, and they ended up dead. I’m not sorry I killed them, but I am sorry that it had to come to that.”

Gauld and the Mayor looked at each other uncertainly. 

“Your Worship,” said the Mayor nervously, “I don’t blame you for what you did. But fact is, the Grey Wardens are allowed to conscript anyone they choose, regardless of any other legal claim or –”

“They weren’t conscripting him,” Effy interrupted. “He is, in fact, already a Grey Warden. They wanted him to follow their orders instead of mine, but I cannot allow my orders to be questioned, even by a group as… _honorable_ as the Grey Wardens.”

“Of course, Your Worship!” Gauld quickly agreed while the Mayor nodded earnestly. “You speak with the voice of the Maker, and the Maker’s law is absolute! Please, forgive me for even thinking to question it! I beg your mercy!”

“That’s not necessary,” Effy stated as Gauld threw himself to the ground in front of her. “Maker’s breath, no more of that! You’re forgiven! Stand up! There you go. Good, good. Now, was there anything you wanted?”

“Your Worship is as benevolent as she is powerful,” Gauld stated, wiping the dirt from his trousers. Which, considering the level of grime on his general person, seemed a rather pointless exercise. “But there _is_ something I’d ask of you. Your humble servant would be eternally grateful if you could check up on a friend of mine. Her name is Judith, and she lives outside the village. If you find her, tell her Gauld sent you. I asked her to come hide here when the undead came, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Likes her space, she said. I told Judith my house was big enough – me and the boy could sleep in the barn if she wanted room – but she turned me down.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Varric stage whispered, rolling his eyes.

_Maker’s breath._

“Fine,” Effy allowed. “I’ll check up on her. Now is there anything _else_ either of you want me to do?”

“Well now that you mention it, there’s a Chantry Sister up the hill who’s been looking for some help performing funeral rites for the dead. As the Herald of Andraste, you, more than anyone, might be able to bend the Maker’s ear and allow them to pass into the Golden City…”

This time, Effy couldn’t stop herself from sighing.

No big deal. Just bend the ear of the Maker and guide countless souls to the afterlife. Never mind that she was a blood mage and didn’t have a single holy bone in her body. Of _course_ she could do that. 

“Of course.”

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Effy didn’t know where she was. She didn’t even know how she had gotten there. Everything was dark…hazy, almost.

But none of that mattered. Because she did know, without a doubt, that she wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon.

For one very particular reason. 

_Yes… Cole…_ Effy gasped as his fingers trailed over her naked chest. 

Cole’s pale skin gleamed in the darkness, a white flash of teeth flitting through the air as he grinned at her enthusiasm. He reached up and quickly tore off his own shirt, revealing a sculpted plane of lean muscles interspersed with silvery jags of old scars.

 _Please,_ Effy begged, running her hands over his corded chest as his fingers returned to ghost over hers. _More… please…_

It was the first time she had ever been touched like this. And Cole’s skin against hers felt so indescribably good, so indescribably warm, that she was quickly losing any semblance of restraint.

 _Whatever you want, lover_ , Cole smirked wickedly. His hand drifted lower, leaving a trail of tingling sparks in its wake.

Effy arched up to meet Cole’s hungry gaze. She looked at him, really _looked_ at him, and her stomach lurched with unease as a foreboding chill crept its way down her spine. His eyes… there was something wrong with his eyes. They were the right color, the right shape, but there was… a gleam… something deep within them that didn’t quite belong. And his teeth… why were they so sharp?...

 _You’re not Cole,_ Effy realized with a surge of panic. 

_I can be whoever you want,_ the thing wearing Cole’s face whispered seductively into her ear. _Anyone at all. All you have to do is let me **in** …_

His fingers crept below her waistband to swirl teasingly around the place she wanted them the most, sending a surge of heat through her lower stomach. Effy’s body embraced the sensation even as her mind screamed _No No No!_

 _Yessss,_ the thing wearing Cole’s face hissed, circling her center with a slow, luxurious rhythm. His other arm held down Effy’s hands while his body pressed on top of hers, effectively pinning her.

 _I am the master of my Desire!_ Effy declared, squirming in an attempt to get away, furious at herself for falling for so simple a trick.

 _Are you now?_ the demon murmured, the words whispered from Cole’s mouth doing incredible things to her heart, his fingers rubbing firmly against a spot that had her seeing stars. _The only thing you’ve mastered is lying to yourself. You’ve pushed me away so that you wouldn’t have to face the truth of your feelings. And now that it’s wrong to want me, now that it’s **dangerous** , you want me even more, and it’s driving you crazy!_

 _You’re not him,_ Effy whispered in denial, the Fade around them echoing with the memory of their confrontation at Skyhold.

_**You are not Cole, you don’t get to call me that!...** _

_**You tricked me!...** _

_**Get away from me!...** _

_**Stay back!…** _

The demon laughed, its fanged mouth nestling against the crook of Effy’s neck as its fingers continued their unerring assault.

_Poor little me. You haven’t thought about me at all since you left me behind at Skyhold. Why is that, I wonder? Could someone be feeling a bit **guilty?**_

_Enough of these games, Desire! You are not Cole, and you know nothing of my thoughts!_ Effy bit out, her breaths growing uneven as the pleasure continued to swell.

_Desire, Compassion, weak measly human… what difference does it make who I am? You want me. You’ve **always **wanted me!****_

_No,_ Effy protested weakly, even as it reached down to untie both of their breeches. Effy slammed her eyes shut, knowing that one glance at Cole’s naked form would ruin whatever small defenses she had mustered.

 _Don’t worry pet, I know you’ve never done this before. I’ll take good care of you_ , Cole soothed, leaning forward to rock his exposed manhood against her center, which now had no barrier left to protect it.

Effy’s eyes rolled back at the onslaught of sensation, whimpers and moans coming freely from her mouth as her core wept at the demon’s skilled advances. 

_Please… no…_

The demon laughed maniacally, the sound downright horrifying coming from Cole’s mouth. The tip of its manhood pressed at the entrance of her passage, requiring only the smallest of pressures, the tiniest bit of capitulation, and Effy would be lost forever.

 _Can you feel that? I will claim you, in this world and the next. You will always belong to me. I will own you, from this day until eternity!_ the demon cried in victory as it flexed its hips, seconds away from slamming into her and claiming her very soul. Effy felt herself fading as the demonic influence took hold.

 _That’s it pet, just give in. You will never be able to esca – ape!_ it stuttered, the words at the end cutting off with a wet gurgle. 

The demon looked down, gazing in shock at the wicked dagger impaled through its chest.

Effy’s body screeched in halted pleasure.

She watched in horror as Cole’s mouth grew slack, thick drops of blood leaking from the corners of his plump lips to trail down his chin. The light in his crystal blue eyes faded to a dull unseeing black, his lifeblood spilling out in wet spurts onto Effy’s naked chest. With a final burbling gasp, Cole slid off of her and went tumbling to the ground.

_Cole!_

She leaned over to cradle his head within her lap, logically knowing that it wasn’t Cole, but too emotionally distraught to care.

Her eyes frantically scanned the surrounding darkness, searching for the killer but finding nothing but shadows and vague shapes. But she could _sense_ it, a thrum within the air, a latent static of anger and darkness and _pain_. 

Her heart pounded in fear. Something was out there. Something was watching her. Something was…

…

...A cold breath of air fluttered against the back of her neck....

_…Something was **right behind her!**_

_“COLE!”_ Effy screamed, starting awake with a heaving jolt. 

She twisted and thrashed, tangling the furs that were draped around her into a haphazard mess. Her pulse pounded in her ears like a war drum, beads of sweat dripping down her body from arousal and fear. Her heart thrummed with adrenaline as she inhaled giant gulps of air in an effort to calm down.

_Fuck… fuck… Stay calm… Just breathe…_

Effy trembled in pure terror, the realization of what had just happened even more terrifying than the act itself.

 _Breathe… Just breathe… It was just the Fade… It’s okay…_.

_**All that you’ve mastered is lying to yourself.** _

Effy squeezed her eyes shut, as if that could somehow stop the demon’s words from swirling within her head. Or somehow change the truth of them. 

Because she wasn’t okay. She wasn’t even _close_ to okay. She had almost just been possessed by a demon. She _would_ have been possessed, had it not been for the intervention of a sinister, nebulous presence, that had no doubt saved her because it wanted to possess her itself. 

And she knew exactly why.

It was her blood magic. It sung out like a beacon, to _it_ and to all the other demons in the Fade. She had known the risks of using blood magic long before she used it to bring back Cole. But she had also thought that she was strong enough, clever enough, to see through any tricks the demons might pull.

_Breathe… Fuck… Just fucking breathe…_

And now, she was faced with undeniable proof that she wasn’t half as strong or half as clever as she had thought. Because demons were _smart_. The Desire demon had been particularly smart, to use Cole’s form. Wicked lying thing that it was, it knew the truth of her desires. 

Try as she might to ignore them.

**_You haven’t thought about me at all since you left me behind in Skyhold._ **

**_Is someone feeling a bit…guilty?_ **

_Fuck…Fuck… Fucking **fuck!**_

Effy nearly jumped out of her skin at the unexpected appearance of Dorian, who came barging into her tent like he had every right to be there.

“Good, you’re awake!” Dorian began without preamble. “Now I know this probably isn’t the best time, but I’m done waiting for the right moment. We need to talk.”

Effy stared at him in wide-eyed panic as she struggled to hide her lingering terror and catch up with the present. Why was Dorian here? Did he sense the presence of demons? Had he figured out that she’d used blood magic? Had he heard her scream out Cole’s name? Did he realize that beneath the furs, her thighs were sticky with arousal? Could he see that her hands were shaking in fear?

“I know that we’ve done a tremendous amount for the villagers here in Crestwood. And I know that helping people is important. Really, I do. But this is longest that I’ve ever been away from civilization. _Ever._. And quite frankly, I’ve had enough of this foul place! I’ve ruined three pairs of shoes, stained two of my favorite outfits, my hair looks like a Nug’s nest, my back hurts from sleeping on leaves and dirt and _rocks_ , there’s nothing to eat but ram jerky and fennec soup, and I haven’t had a bath in _nine_ days!” Dorian moaned, seemingly oblivious Effy’s anxious internal monologue, as well as the grumbles and groans of various Inquisition scouts as the noise from his early-morning tirade carried into their tents. “I can’t take it anymore! Please Evelyn, I know we got off on the wrong foot, but please, no more punishment. I need to go back to Skyhold!”

Effy breathed deeply, brutally shoving down her emotions as it became clear that Dorian knew absolutely nothing about her ordeal, and would actually require a coherent response. She was suddenly grateful for his rather pushy presence, as it was jarring enough to drag her back to the mundanity of the real world.

“Alri-” Effy began, only to be interrupted as Dorian talked over her.

“No, don’t say it! I already know what you’re thinking! Oh Dorian, the fashionista. Oh Dorian, the _complainer_. Well I’ll tell you what, not everyone is cut out for this sort of thing! My forte is _research_. Politics, socializing – I can show you how to _ruin_ a magister’s reputation with the right outfit and a few words spoken to the right people. I can find you the only paragraph detailing a subject written in a book a thousand years ago. But this? Hunting fennec to feed the villagers, looking through rotten skulls to find some sparkly rocks, charting the constellations, digging through caves to collect wine bottles and mosaics, clipping every sodding plant we come across, claiming landmarks and quarries and logging stands, putting a blasted flag on every funny-looking tree we find in the middle of _nowhere_ –!”

“Dorian!” Effy interrupted, the shakiness of her voice mostly hidden beneath a tone of exasperation. “I said alright! You can go back to Skyhold.”

Dorian faltered, the steam going out of his sails as he finally registered what she had said. 

“Really?” he asked uncertainly. “Just like that?”

“Yes Dorian. I know slavery is common in Tevinter, but I hold to no such practice. You are free to come and go as you please. But just know that if you ever choose to _leave_ leave, then I’ll need you to swear not to spread any of our secrets. Otherwise… Well, there is no otherwise. We have assassins on our payroll for a reason.”

Dorian laughed, a classic rich baritone that lit up his entire face. “Oh honey, you might be the only person to have ever combined a friendly favor, an insult to my homeland, and a death threat, all in the same sentence. But don’t fret – I have no intention of leaving and spreading your secrets. I’ve actually grown rather fond of you, prickly little thing that you are.”

Effy smiled weakly in return. It was getting easier now, to pretend. To shove everything down so deep that she couldn’t feel it anymore. She didn’t have to be afraid. She could just be herself. She was fine. This didn’t have to _change_ things. She was _fine_.

_**The only thing you’ve mastered is lying to yourself.** _

_I’m not lying!_

In this sort of situation, Effy would typically say something sarcastic and usher Dorian out of her tent. And since he was here and feeling charitable towards her, she might even try to get something out of it.

So Effy decided to do just that. Because she. Was. _Fine!_

“Thanks Dorian. But uhhh.... I hope you don’t mind staying for one more day. Iron Bull and the Chargers, as well as Fiona and a group of the allied mages, are set to arrive tomorrow, along with an entire battalion of fresh Inquisition troops. It’d be safer and easier for you to head back to Skyhold with the Inquisition scouts that are cycling back in. Unless of course, you’d rather head back to Skyhold by yourself?”

“Hmm, let me think – either I travel by my lonesome through the bear-infested woods and a perilous mountain path, or I wait one more day and go with an entire convoy of well-armed scouts. Yeah, I think I’ll take the convoy.”

“Good choice,” Effy nodded in relief, pleased that her small lie had gone unnoticed. “Because there is something that I’ve been meaning to do while you’re still here. You see, I’ve been taking peeks at Vivienne’s notes. She’s been working on some sort of advanced healing potion that requires a Snowy Wyvern heart. And that naturalist Judith, well, she told us all about a group of Wyverns causing trouble in Glenmorgan Mine. And it got me thinking, how could I get a Wyvern heart back to Vivienne before it rotted? And then I remembered – ”

“Yes, yes, I get your point,” Dorian sighed. “Trying to curry favor with the First Enchanter, hmm? Can’t say I blame you. She’s not someone you’d want to have as your enemy. I suppose I can help you preserve the heart and bring it back to Skyhold. Maker knows there’s nothing else to do in this mucky cesspool.”

“Excellent, then it’s all settled. Now Dorian?”

“Hmm?”

“Get the fuck out of my tent.”

“But wait, I didn’t get a chance to ask!” Dorian protested, his eyebrows wagging suggestively. “You must tell me – Who is this Cole person?”

“Get. OUT!”

Dorian left.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“You know, when you told me about getting a Snowy Wyvern heart, somehow I didn’t expect it to be quite so… messy,” Dorian admitted. His nose scrunched up as he observed Effy, who was elbow-deep in a Wyvern’s chest cavity, the red of its innards a stark contrast to the snowy whiteness of its scales. “I suppose it was lucky of us to find a Snowy Wyvern here – the only _known_ nest in existence is somewhere in the Exalted Plains.”

“More lucky is how the thing tripped and broke its ankle right as it was about to take a bite out of Sunshine. I swear, you and Hawke should have a competition to see who has the most escapes from near-death scenarios,” Varric mused, raising his voice loud enough to be heard from his perch atop one of the twin ancient halla statues. He was high enough to make Effy jealous, and even more frustrating was that despite having such a _gorgeous_ view from that high up, the dwarf seemed completely absorbed with his task, running a polish rag over Bianca with the same single-minded determination someone might use to caress a lover. 

“You know, you _could_ come down here and help me out with this,” Effy called back to Varric, pulling her arm out of the bloody warmth of the beast to wipe away an errant strand of hair, leaving behind a grisly trail of red on her forehead. “At least Blackwall is making himself useful collecting Veridium.”

“And what is Sparkler doing besides fiddling with his mustache?” Varric responded, not even looking to see if Dorian was in fact fiddling with his mustache. Which he was.

“ _I’m_ going to cast a spell that will help preserve the heart!” Dorian said defensively. “It’s a delicate spell, and requires my full concentration!”

“Right. Well, have fun with that!” Varric called back cheerfully, his legs dangling against the side of the cracked marble some fifty feet in the air.

“Are you sure your friend is alright in the head? Because last I heard, dwarves were supposed to _hate_ heights,” Dorian stage whispered to Effy.

“There was no room left for me down there with your ego filling up the place!” Varric shot back. 

A loud clamor had everyone turning to look at Blackwall, who had dumped a huge armful of Veridium and Deep Mushrooms onto the rocky ground. “I see that I’m the only one working. Typical.”

Effy scowled. Did he not see that her arms were elbow deep in a dead Wyvern?

“Hey, I’m just getting Bianca pretty!” Varric justified. “She’s a classy lady, and deserves to look her best for when everyone gets here tonight.”

“Wait… tonight?” asked Dorian, his head swiveling towards Effy in alarm. “You said that everyone was getting here tomorrow!”

“Oops,” Effy said unapologetically, unconcerned that her lie had been revealed now that Dorian had already helped her kill the Wyvern. “Must’ve slipped my mind.”

Dorian scowled, but Effy ignored him as she finally took hold of the Wyvern heart, yanking it out of its chest and holding it up triumphantly.

“You are a sick, _twisted_ individual,” Dorian stated factually.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re rather fond of me,” she said with a cheeky smile. “Now c’mon, cast the spell before this thing starts to rot.”

Dorian sighed but obligingly murmured some words, a wave of purple light swelling from his staff to surround the heart in a hazy aura. 

“There, now it’ll keep for at least ten days,” Dorian informed. “And by that, I actually mean ten days. Because you know, it’s _rude_ to lie about that sort of thing.”

“True,” Effy admitted. “But you wouldn’t have come otherwise. And I actually needed your help. You know the preservation spell, and without you we would have never –”

“Nuh uh, none of that!” Dorian tsked, wagging his finger. “Trying to get back in my good graces by appealing to my vanity, hmm? I appreciate the attempt, but you’ll have to do better than that if you want to manipulate me. _Again_.”

“You’re right. You are far too intelligent for that sort of thing. Maybe I would be better at it if I had a teacher? Someone who was smart, and clever, and impeccably skilled, and knew how to manipulate people at the highest levels of society…”

“Well dear, when you put it like that,” Dorian smiled, looking quite pleased with himself.

Effy smirked back.

“Oh, you little – !”

Effy laughed, narrowly dodging the shower of sparks he sent in her direction by side-stepping into the small pond that formed the center of Glenmorgan mine. Unfortunately, the pond was stained red by the bloody Wyvern carcass, and water splashed up from her boots to spray onto the bottom of Dorian’s brilliant yellow robes.

“Now look at what you’ve done!” Dorian shrieked. “You’ve ruined my last good outfit!” 

“It’s an _improvement_ ,” cooed Effy, dodging another volley of sparks and splashing his robes even more.

“Hey Sunshine, don’t let Sparkler distract you so much that you forget to get the liver for Judith!” Varric reminded, his eyes still glued to Bianca.

“We should get the Wyvern scales as well,” Blackwall advised speculatively. “They would make a great set of armor.”

Effy snorted. If Blackwall thought that he’d get a new set of armor, then he was utterly delusion. The fuckup with the Grey Wardens had made an enemy out of Jana, who had outright denied any knowledge of Hawke, and afterwards refused to even talk to them. And even though the Mayor and most of the villagers were willing to overlook the incident with the Wardens, Jana’s presence was angry enough that it made staying in Crestwood uncomfortable. 

That, and the continuous presence of the undead, which somewhat undermined Effy’s credibility after claiming to have killed them all.

Hence, the sleeping in tents. 

“Forget about the ruddy liver and the stupid scales! She lied to me, and now she just _ruined_ my outfit!” Dorian yelled, aghast at their lack of response. “And now everyone will see how horrible I look when we get back!”

“And by ‘everyone,’ do you mean a certain Qunari someone?” Varric inquired lightly.

Effy’s mouth dropped open in surprise. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Dorian huffed, his face turning a brilliant shade of red. 

“Of course not,” Varric said graciously. “My mistake. And I’m also mistaken about why you’re blushing right now. This is all just a _huge_ misunderstanding.”

“Huge is one way to put it,” Blackwall muttered, turning around to head back into the cave, looking very much like he wished he could unhear everything he had just heard.

Dorian spluttered with indignation, looking so frazzled that Effy almost took pity on the man. 

Almost.

“You complain all day when we make you ride a horse, but now you’re saying that you _want_ to ride the Bull?” Effy asked with faux incredulity. “The nerve!”

“Hey now Sunshine, don’t go getting cocky!” Varric grinned. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed your little _thing_ with the Kid.” 

Effy jerked, a note suddenly off-key where before she had played her part to perfection. A deep roiling began within the pit of her stomach as she fought down the surge of mixed emotions that bubbled forth at the mention of Cole.

_**You want me. You’ve always wanted me!** _

“Shut up!” she snapped, to both Varric and the echoes within her thoughts. “He isn’t a kid, and there isn’t any ‘thing’ between us. We’re just friends, okay?”

“Oh ho, is this Kid the mysterious Cole?” Dorian asked, his smirk widening at a nod from Varric. “Well, I’ve never seen you two together, but I’ll tell you one thing – _friends_ don’t cry out each other’s names like you did this morning.”

“Or kiss them,” Varric added.

_**More… please…** _

_**Whatever you want, lover.** _

“That was once,” Effy hissed. “And I kissed him on the _cheek!_ ” 

“You’ve never kissed _me_ on the cheek,” Varric pointed out.

“Me neither,” pouted Dorian.

“I’ve never kissed either of you because you’re both nosy, spiteful assholes!” Effy snarled, feeling dangerously on edge. “Now not another fucking word about it, or I’ll freeze your guts out!”

Varric chuckled so hard he almost wobbled off the statue. “Well if that doesn’t confirm it, I don’t know what will!” 

Dorian also looked amused. “Young love. How _tragic_. But I think everyone here is overlooking the biggest tragedy of them all.”

“The fact that I’m the only one who works?” Blackwall suggested, having come back from the cave with another armful of Veridium and Deep Mushrooms.

“No, the fact that she _ruined my outfit!_ ” Dorian reminded them, gesturing wildly to the line of red speckles on his golden brocade.

Effy sighed, the tension draining out of her like an unclogged gutter as Dorian changed the subject. That was twice now, that he’d earned her gratitude by interrupting things. 

“I’m sure nobody will even notice the blood stains. And if they do, I’ll tell them that it was my fault,” Effy promised, feeling unusually charitable.

Dorian sniffed. “Thanks for the offer, but the fact is, you _still_ ruined my outfit.”

Effy thought for a moment, her lips pursed in concentration.

“Of course…” Effy whispered as the solution came to her, ironically thanks to Blackwall’s earlier comment. “Say Dorian, does your preservation spell work as well on hides as it does on hearts?”

“It’s necromancy. It works on anything that used to be living flesh. So it can preserve skin, but not hair or scales. But those keep on their own anyway. So basically, yes. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I think I found you a new outfit,” she said, gesturing proudly towards the dead Snowy Wyvern. “How would you like a battle coat made of pure white, ultra rare, very _expensive_ Snowy Wyvern hide?”

Dorian paused, his eyes scanning the dead beast while Blackwall cursed under his breath about favoritism.

“Add a little bit of silk brocade, a dash of fennec fur… maybe some halla leather…. Yes… Yes, I can see it!” he proclaimed, growing noticeably more excited. “It’d be a _statement_ , that’s for sure. And the white may hint a little too much at purity for my liking. But you know, I think I could make it work!”

“Great, you can bring it back to Dagna and have her make you something nice,” Effy smiled in satisfaction. Sure, she and Dorian _still_ hadn’t talked about Redcliffe, but maybe… maybe it didn’t matter. They had gotten along rather well, all things considered. He knew how to keep things light when they got a little too serious, and could banter right along with her and Varric. Really, he wasn’t as bad as she had first thought.

That was, when he wasn’t blowing up Grey Wardens in her face.

“Hey Sunshine!” Varric called out, breaking into her little moment with the grace of a charging Bronto.

“Hmm?”

“Liver!”

Effy flipped him the bird, and then got back to work.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“I’m glad you decided to come with us,” Effy said to a slightly nervous Judith as she plodded along beside them on her old mule. The sun hung low in the Western sky, and at the pace the mule was going, they probably wouldn’t be able to make it back to camp before nightfall.

“Of course,” Judith said. “But I hope you understand, this is quite a leap of faith I’m making. As an apostate, I’ve managed to stay safe for so long by keeping my magic a secret. Travelling from one town to the next, always settling on the outskirts, never allowing anyone to get too close – these things have kept me alive and out of the Templar’s clutches. And to be honest, I’ve actually gotten quite comfortable with my life in Crestwood. I’ve made a bit of a name for myself as a Naturalist, and I can’t help but worry that joining the Inquisition will ruin everything I’ve tried to build here.”

“You don’t have to say that you’re a mage,” Effy reassured her. “You’re going to be our poisons expert. Nobody needs to know of your other abilities if you don’t want them to. But consider this – all of the Circles have been disbanded, and with the Templars enslaved by Corypheus, being an apostate doesn’t mean much of anything anymore. Instead of building up a life of lies, you could build towards something much greater. Aren’t you tired of running? Of hiding?”

“You don’t need to convince me,” Judith replied sharply. “I’ve already made my choice. I just… I just needed to say it.”

Blackwall nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. “There are some choices that you can’t take back.”

Effy offered him a wary glance, but said nothing as the group descended into silence. 

Their travel was slowed by Judith’s mule, but they made better time than Effy first expected, and so she couldn’t really complain. Judith was an incredible agent to have recruited, and her vast repertoire of poisons would no doubt prove invaluable to Leliana’s efforts. 

The sun was just setting when they finally arrived at the Three Trout Camp. Effy and the others dismounted to lead their horses by foot as they approached the circle of tents. The ground was even _rockier_ here than it was by the North Gate, as it was right next to the sink hole that formed Three Trout Lake, but the convenience of the location more than made up for it. It served as a great central hub to conduct their search for Hawke, and was close enough to Caer Bronach to serve as a good base for mounting their attack.

It appeared they had gotten back just in time, as Effy spotted a huge party bearing Inquisition banners cresting over a hill and down towards the camp.

Dorian took one look at the party and all but fled to his tent, disappearing within its confines just as the party rode up, headed Knight Templar Lysette and Grand Enchanter Fiona. Effy turned and shared a quick smile with Judith, who looked shocked to see a Templar and the leader of the mage rebellion riding together as equals under the same banners.

“Grand Enchanter Fiona,” Effy hailed, giving the elven woman a hand to help her dismount her horse. “And Knight Lysette. Glad to see that you made it here safely. Any troubles on the road?”

“Well met, Inquisitor. There were a few minor skirmishes, but nothing that we couldn’t handle,” Lysette said, gesturing at her blood-splattered armor. 

“Good, good… Well, thank you for coming on such short notice. The bandit situation in Crestwood has gotten a bit out of hand, and hopefully with your help we’ll be able to route them out of Caer Bronach before the end of tomorrow. But bandits aren’t the only threat in the area. I’ve closed all the rifts except for the one in the lake, but that single rift is responsible for a continuous and persistent presence of undead. They seem to congregate around the Crestwood town gates, so take care if you’re around that area. Oh, and be extra careful – a dragon has also been sighted in that area. We haven’t pinpointed its exact location yet, but when we do, I’ll let you know.”

Fiona and Lysette looked at Effy incredulously.

“Bandits, undead, and a dragon?” Lysette asked in weary confirmation. “I’m glad Commander Cullen assigned some extra men. He thought they’d be useful for collecting Obsidian, if you can believe it. The Maker truly works in mysterious ways.”

“I’m also glad for the extra warriors. Because killing bandits and undead and dragons is not something my mages are very good at,” Fiona admitted, turning towards Effy. “Most of us were in Circles before the rebellion, and even then, we did more running and hiding than actual fighting. But still, we will do our best to aid you in this task. We owe you a great debt from the events at Redcliffe. You saved all of our lives from that madman Alexius, and in doing so, saved us from a fate worse than death. You allowed us into the Inquisition, not as prisoners, but as allies, and we have yet to see that gesture repaid. We should have been there when Corypheus attacked Haven. But we weren’t. And so I pledge to you, right here and now, that my mages and I will always answer your call for aid,” Fiona pledged, graciously dipping to one knee.

“Well said,” Lysette nodded, turning towards Effy. “I also owe you a debt. You took me in when the Templar Order imploded into chaos. You took in any Templar willing to put aside old grievances and start afresh. Thanks to you, a good number of my brothers and sisters managed to escape the awful fate of being enslaved by Red Lyrium, and have found purpose again within the Inquisition. My sword is yours, should you ever have need of it,” Lysette swore, also dropping to one knee.

“Stop it,” Effy huffed, waving her hands to bid them to stand up. “Seriously, no more of that. Neither of you owe me any sort of debt. Fiona, you and the mages weren’t in Haven during the attack because I _ordered_ you to stay in the Conclave ruins and monitor the Breach. You were only doing as you were told. And come now Knight Lysette, I hardly could’ve left you or your brethren for dead! I accept anyone who is willing to lay down old allegiances and serve the Inquisition.”

“And I do not follow you out of a misplaced sense of debt,” Lysette assured. “Your actions have shown me that you, a mage, are willing to look beyond the historic mistrust between mages and Templars in order to serve a greater cause. Such a leader is worthy of being followed. I believe the Maker chose you for a reason, and I shall follow you until the end.”

“As will I,” Fiona was quick to add.

“Thank you,” Effy swallowed, not expecting such fierce loyalty, and not liking the religious undertones of it, but knowing better than to argue the matter. “I hope to prove myself worthy of your allegiance. Now I’m sure you both must be exhausted from your journey, so go ahead and make camp. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“Of course, Inquisitor,” said Fiona, taking her leave as Lysette saluted.

Effy gave a final nod to the two of them and began making her way through the convoy, the arrival of so many mages and troops sparking a flurry of activity that in the space of a few minutes, had transformed the camp into a lively little tent city. Shouts of greeting, nickering horses, people hollering to each other as they figured out which tent went where and how much food to cook and whether it was too late to bust open a cask of ale – she perked up at the last voice, recognizing it as Krem’s, and made her way in that general direction. There was so much chaotic activity that hardly anyone gave her a second glance, which suited Effy just fine. Because she was quickly realizing something disconcerting.

Everyone who _did_ see her, dropped to one knee and saluted as she passed by. 

The first time it happened, she shook it off. The second time it happened, she scowled and tried to ignore it. But the third time it happened, a sinking feeling began building deep within her chest. Because sure, there had always been a few religious types who insisted on kneeling as if Effy was some sort of Holy Prophet, but they were usually few and far between. 

But looking behind her, she saw a veritable _trail_ of people kneeling in her wake, some of whom she recognized and knew to be logical, practical people. 

_What the fuck was going on?_

It was with great relief that she spotted Iron Bull and the rest of the Chargers heading up the tail end of the convoy.

“Boss!” Iron Bull bellowed, a wide grin stretching across his face. But the grin quickly fell, replaced by a chagrined look as he coughed and amended, “I mean, Inquisitor of the Maker. It’s good to see you.”

“What the hell did you just call me?” Effy demanded, her nerves racketing up as she realized that whatever was happening, it was big enough to make Iron Bull treat her like a stranger.

_‘Inquisitor of the **Maker?** ’ What in the ever-living hell was that?_

“Not here,” Bull hushed in a low voice, looking around surreptitiously. 

“What do you mean –” Effy began, only to be cut off by Iron Bull’s severe look of warning. 

“Apologies Inquisitor, but I’m feeling rather tired after such a long ride,” Iron Bull said, raising his voice loud enough to be heard. “I think I’ll retire to my _tent_ for the night.”

“Alright,” Effy replied, still a little off-balance but finally catching on. “I’ll see you _later_ , then.”

“Inquisitor,” Iron Bull saluted, quickly dropping to one knee and standing up again and before bustling off with the rest of the Chargers.

_What. The actual. Fuck._

Effy looked around, and saw that everyone who had observed the spectacle was now silently kneeling in the same way, with one-knee on the ground, their opposite hand thumped against their chest. 

“Rise,” Effy choked, her mouth as dry as cotton.

It seems they understood her though, because they all rose as one and continued about their tasks. As if they had never knelt in the first place. As if it were completely normal – nay, _expected_ – for them to kneel in her presence. 

Effy spun and stalked away, her gaze fixed in front of her with a growing sense of tunnel vision. Because if she looked straight ahead, she wouldn’t have to see the people kneeling. She wouldn’t have to wonder why. She wouldn’t have to get upset. 

She wouldn’t have to acknowledge that somehow, once again, _everything had changed._


End file.
